THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SI  AND   SHORTY  AS   FORAGERS. 
(CHAPTER  xxi.) 


SI   KLEQQ 

THRU  THE  STONE  RIVER  CAMPAIGN  AND  IN 
WINTER  QUARTERS  AT  MURFREESBORO. 

___________  * 

BY  JOHN  MCELROY. 


PUBLISHED   BY 

THE    NATIONAL    TRIBUNE    CO., 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


SECOND    EDITION — ENLARGED    AND    REVISED. 

COPYRIGHT     IQIO 
BY    THE    NATIONAL    TRIBUNE   CO. 


PREFACE 

"Si  Klegg,  of  the  200th  Ind.,  and  Shorty,  his 
Partner,"  were  born  years  ago  in  the  brain  of  John 
McElroy,  Editor  of  THE  NATIONAL  TRIBUNE. 

These  sketches  are  the  original  ones  published  in 
THE  NATIONAL  TRIBUNE,  revised  and  enlarged  some 
what  by  the  author.  How  true  they  are  to  nature 
every  veteran  can  abundantly  testify  from  his  own 
service.  Really,  only  the  name  of  the  regiment  was 
invented.  There  is  no  doubt  that  there  were  several 
men  of  the  name  of  Josiah  Klegg  in  the  Union 
Army,  and  who  did  valiant  service  for  the  Govern 
ment.  They  had  experiences  akin  to,  if  not  identical 
with,  those  narrated  here,  and  substantially  every 
man  who  faithfully  and  bravely  carried  a  musket  in 
defense  of  the  best  Government  on  earth  had  some 
times,  if  not  often,  experiences  of  which  those  of  Si 
Klegg  are  a  strong  reminder. 

THE  PUBLISHERS. 


550245 


CONTENTS. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER  I. — Through   Mud   and   Mire — Duty's    Path   Leads 

the  2OOth  Ind.  Southward  from  Nashville 15 

CHAPTER  II. — Second  Day's  March — The  Long  Column 

Crawls  Through  Rain  and  Cold  to  Murfreesboro 26 

CHAPTER  III. — Still  on  the  March — Si  and  Shorty  Stop 

on  the  Way  Long  Enough  to  Bag  Six  Rebs 37 

CHAPTER  IV. — The  Sunshine  of  Life — Si  Feels  Once 

More  That  Life  is  Really  Worth  Living 47 

CHAPTER  V. — Lining  up  for  Battle — The  2OOth  Ind. 

Guards  the  Wagon  Train,  and  Defeats  an  Attack 56 

CHAPTER  VI. — Battle  of  Stone  River — The  2OOth  Ind.  is 

Praised  for  Bravery  67 

CHAPTER  VII. — After  the  First  Day — The  Discomforts  of 

That  Last  Night  of  1862 83 

CHAPTER  VIII. — A  Gloomy  New  Year's  Day — The  Two 

Armies  Lie  Frowning  at  Each  Other 93 

CHAPTER  IX. — Victory  at  Last — Si  Reappears  as  From  the 
Grave,  With  an  Appetite  Like  a  Prairie  Fire 107 

CHAPTER  X. — The  Victorious  Army — Si  and  Shorty  Finally 

Succeed  in  Getting  Out  of  the  Wet 117 

CHAPTER  XL — Winter  Quarters — They  Built  Them  a  House 
and  Got  in  Out  of  the  Rain 125 

CHAPTER  XII. — Adding  to  Their  Comfort — Making  Addi 
tions  and  Improvements  to  Their  "Home" 138 

CHAPTER  XIII. — "Hoosier's  Rest" — Si  and  Shorty  Christen 

Their  Place  and  Give  a  House- Warming 150 

CHAPTER  XIV. — Deacon  Klegg's  Surprise — Decides  to  Visit 
Murfreesboro  and  Meets  With  Adventures 160 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER  XV. — Deacon  Klegg's  Arrival — Is  Mistaken  for  a 

Knight  of  the  Golden  Circle 175 

CHAPTER  XVI. — In  a  New  World — Deacon  Klegg  Has  a 
Little  Experience  of  Life  in  the  Army 191 

CHAPTER  XVII. — The  Deacon's  Initiation — Rapidly  Acquires 

Experience  of  Life  in  the  Army 202 

CHAPTER  XVIII.— The  Deacon  is  Shocked— He  is  Caught 

With  the  Goods  on  Him  and  is  Rescued  Just  in  Time. ..  215 

CHAPTER  XIX. — The  Deacon  is  Troubled — Disposes  of  the 
$500  "Whisky"  Money  and  Goes  Out  Foraging 229 

CHAPTER  XX. — The  Deacon  Butts  In — Enforces  the  Eman 
cipation  Proclamation  244 

CHAPTER  XXI. — The  Perplexed  Deacon— Troubled  to  Know 

What  to  do  With  the  Freedman 252 

CHAPTER  XXII. — Trying  to  Educate  Abraham  Lincoln — Too 

High-Pressure  Schooling — The  Boys  on  Picket 266 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE. 

The  Aid  Spatters  Mud  on   Si 18 

Si  Sat  Down  Hard 20 

"Stop  Beat'in'   Them  Mules" 22 

Frozen   in  the   Mud 29 

"What  Do  You  See,  Shorty?" 33 

Si    Reports   to  the   Colonel 38 

Preparing   Supper    40 

After  the   Mules    Stampeded 44 

The  Adjutant  Smiled  on  Si  and  Shorty 48 

The    Prisoners    50 

Earning  Thirteen  Dollars  a  Month 57 

A   Close   Shave    62 

Groundhog  Fled    64 

A  Frightened  Teamster   70 

A   Lucky    Fall    81 

Finding  a  Good  Thing   85 

Si's    Challenge    90 

A  Disagreeable  Awakening  for  Shorty  and  Si 94 

"Si   Klegg  Fell  Without  a  Groan" 113 

Shorty  Thinks  Si  Does  Not  Look  Like  a  Ghost 118 

Shorty   Retaliates    126 

The   House   Beautiful    133 

Solid   Comfort    135 

"Am  I  a  Soldier  of  the  Cross  ?" 139 

Shorty  Confiscates  the  Caboose  Door 143 

Si   Defended   the   Plunder 148 

Si    Floors   the   Wagonmaster IS4 

"Hoosier's    Riest"    . . . 157 

"A  Stoutly-Built,  Farmer-Looking  Man   Entered  the  Train". .  164 

The    Free    Fight 169 

Mr.  Klegg  Ready  for  Action I72 


CONTENTS.  Xlll 


The  General  Interrupted  the  Game 184 

Meeting  Between  Si  and  His  Father 189 

"His  Honor"  and  the  "Attorney"  Bucked  and  Gagged 196 

Short}'  Admonishes  the   Orderly 198 

Shorty  Admires   Si's   Shirt 200 

Deacon  Klegg  is  Surprised   210 

Trying  to  Conquer  the   Deacon's   Scruples 212 

"How  Much'd  You  Give  for  This?" 216 

Deacon  Klegg  Looks  Over  the  Larder 221 

"Hit  My  Jug  a  Welt  With  His  Sword" 23 1 

"Pulled  Out  a  Fat  Roll  of  Greenbacks" 235 

"I'm  Gwine  Ter  Kill  Ye,  Right  Here" 246 

"Do  You  Hear?     Git  on  Your  Mule  at  Onct" 254 

"I'll  Invite  Your  Attention  to  the  Emancipation  Proclamation"  264 
The  Deacon  Gives  Abe  a  Lesson  in  Wood  Chopping 269 


THIS   BOOK  IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED 

TO  THE  RANK   AND   FILE 
OF  THE  GRANDEST   ARMY   EVER   MUSTERED   FOR   WAR. 


SI  KLEOG 


CHAPTER  I. 


THROUGH   MUD  AND   MIRE — DUTY'S  PATH   LEADS  THE 
200TH    IND.    SOUTHWARD    FROM    NASHVILLE. 

44  <  HORTY,"  said  Si  Klegg,  the  morning  after 
Christmas,  1862,  as  the  200th  Ind.  sul 
lenly  plunged  along  through  the  mud  and 
rain,  over  the  roads  leading  southward  from  Nash 
ville,  "they  say  that  this  is  to  be  a  sure-enough 
battle  and  end  the  war." 

"Your  granny's  night-cap  they  do,"  answered 
Shorty  crossly,  as  he  turned  his  cap  around  back 
ward  to  stop  the  icy  current  from  chasing  down  his 
backbone.  "How  many  thousand  times  's  that  bin 
stuffed  into  your  ears  ?  This  is  the  forty-thousandth 
mile  we've  marched  to  find  that  battle  that  was 
goin'  to  end  the  war.  And  I'll  bet  we'll  march 
40.000  more.  This  war  ain't  goin'  to  end  till  we've 
scuffed  the  top  off  all  the  roads  in  Kentucky  and 
Tennessee,  and  wore  out  God's  patience  and  all  the 
sole-leather  in  the  North.  I  believe  it's  the  shoe 
makers  that's  runnin'  this  war  in  the  interest  o* 
their  business." 

The  cold,  soaking  rain  had  reduced  the  most  of 
the  200th  Ind.  to  a  mood  when  they  would  have 


16  SI  KLEGG. 

disputed  the  Ten  Commandments  and  quarreled 
with  their  mothers. 

"There's  no  use  bein'  crosser'n  a  saw-buck,  if  you 
are  wet,  Shorty,"  said  Si,  walking  to  the  side  of  the 
road  and  scraping  off  his  generous-sized  brogans 
several  pounds  of  stiff,  red  mud.  "They  say  this 
new  General  with  a  Dutch  name  is  a  fighter  from 
Wayback,  an'  he  always  licks  the  rebels  right  out 
of  their  boots.  I'm  sure,  I  hope  it's  so.  I  like  huntin' 
ez  well  ez  anybody,  an'  I'll  walk  ez  fur  ez  the  next 
man  to  find  something  to  shoot.  But  I  think  walkin' 
over  two  States,  backward  and  forward,  is  alto 
gether  too  much  huntin'  for  so  little  shootin'.  Don't 
you?" 

"Don't  worry,  snapped  Shorty.  "You'll  git  all 
the  shootin'  you  want  before  your  three  years  are 
up.  It'll  keep." 

"But  why  keep  it  so  long?"  persisted  Si.  "If  it 
can  be  done  up  in  three  months,  an'  we  kin  git  back 
home,  why  dribble  it  out  over  three  years?  That 
ain't  the  way  we  do  work  back  home  on  the 
Wabash." 

"Confound  back  home  on  the  Wabash,"  roared 
Shorty.  "I  don't  hear  nothin'  else,  day  and  night, 
but  'back  home  on  the  Wabash.'  I've  bin  on  the 
Wabash,  an'  I  don't  want  to  never  see  the  measly, 
muddy,  agery  ditch  agin'.  Why,  they  have  the  ager 
so  bad  out  there  that  it  shakes  the  buttons  off  a 
man's  clothes,  the  teeth  out  of  his  head,  the  horns 
off  the  cows.  An'  as  for  milk-sickness " 

"Shorty!"  thundered  Si,  "stop  right  there.  If 
you  wasn't  my  pardner  I'd  fight  you  this  minute. 
I  kin  join  in  jawin'  about  the  officers  an'  the  Gov- 


THROUGH  MUD  AND  MIRE.  17 

ernment.  A  great  deal  of  your  slack  that  I  can't 
agree  with  I  kin  put  up  with,  but  you  mustn't  say 
nothin'  against  my  home  in  the  Wabash  Valley. 
That  I  won't  stand  from  no  man.  For  fear  that 
I  may  lose  my  temper  I'm  goin'  away  from  you 
till  you're  in  better  humor." 

With  that  Si  strode  on  ahead,  feeling  as  cross  and 
uncomfortable  internally  as  he  was  ill-at-ease  ex 
ternally.  He  hated  above  all  things  to  quarrel  with 
Shorty,  but  the  Wabash  Valley,  that  gardenspot  of 
earth,  that  place  where  lived  his  parents,  and  sister, 
and  Annabel — but  the  subject  was  too  sore  to  think 
about. 

Presently  an  Aid  came  galloping  along  the  middle 
of  the  road,  calling  upon  the  men  to  make  way  for 
him.  His  horse's  hoofs  threw  the  mud  in  every  di 
rection,  and  Si  caught  a  heavy  spatter  directly  in 
his  face. 

"Confound  them  snips  of  Aids,"  said  he  angrily, 
as  he  wiped  the  mud  off.  "Put  on  more  airs  than  if 
they  was  old  Gen.  Scott  himself.  Always  pretend 
to  be  in  such  a  powerful  hurry.  Everybody  must 
hustle  out  of  their  way.  I  think  that  fool  jest  did 
that  on  purpose." 

The  rain  kept  pouring  down  with  tormenting  per 
sistence.  Wherever  Si  looked  were  drenched,  de 
pressed-looking  men;  melancholy,  steaming  horses; 
sodden,  gloomy  fields;  yellow,  rushing  streams,  and 
boundless  mud  that  thousands  of  passing  feet  were 
churning  into  the  consistency  of  building-mortar. 

Si  had  seen  many  rainy  days  since  he  had  been 
in  the  army,  but  this  was  the  first  real  Winter  rain 

he  had  been  out  in. 
2 


18 


SI   KLEGG. 


Jabe  Belcher,  the  most  disagreeable  man  in  Co. 
Q,  was  just  ahead  of  him.  He  stepped  into  a 
mudpuddle,  slipped,  threw  the  mud  and  water  over 
Si,  and  his  gun,  which  he  flung  in  the  effort  to 
save  himself,  struck  Si  on  the  shoulder. 


THE  AID  SPATTERS  MUD  ON  SI. 

"Clumsy  lunkhead !"  roared  Si,  as  ill-tempered  now 
as  anybody.  "Couldn't  you  see  that  puddle  and  keep 
out  of  it?  You'd  walk  right  into  the  Cumberland 
River  if  it  was  in  front  of  you.  Never  saw  such  a 
bat-eyed  looney  in  my  life." 

"If  the  Captain  wasn't  lookin',"  retorted  Belcher, 


THROUGH  MUD  AND  MIRE.  19 

"I'd  shut  up  both  of  them  dead-mackerel  eyes  o' 
your'n,  you  backwoods  yearlin'.  I'll  settle  with  you 
after  we  git  into  camp.  Your  stripes  won't  save 
you." 

"Never  mind  about  my  stripes,  old  Stringhalt.  I 
kin  take  them  off  long  enough  to  wallop  you." 

Si  was  in  such  a  frame  of  mind  that  his  usual 
open-eyedness  was  gone.  The  company  was  wading 
across  a  creek,  and  Si  plunged  in  without  a  thought. 
He  stepped  on  a  smooth  stone,  his  feet  went  from 
under  him.  and  he  sat  'down  hard  and  waist-deep 
in  much  the  coldest  water  that  he  ever  remembered. 

"0,  Greenland's  icy  mountains,"  was  all  that  he 
could  think  to  say. 

The  other  boys  yelled: 

"Come  on  to  camp,  Si.  That's  no  place  to  sit 
down." 

"Feet  hurt,  Si,  and  goin'  to  rest  a  little?" 

"This  your  day  for  taking  a  bath,  Si?" 

"Thinks  this  is  a  political  meetin',  and  he's  to 
take  the  chair." 

"Place— Rest!" 

"When  I  sit  down,  I  prefer  a  log  or  a  rail;  but 
some  men's  different." 

"See  a  big  bass  there,  Si,  an'  try  to  ketch  him 
by  settin'  down  on  him?" 

"Git  up,  Si;  git  up,  an'  give  your  seat  to  some 
lady." 

Si  was  too  angry  to  notice  their  jibes.  He  felt 
around  in  the  icy  water  for  his  gun,  and  clambered 
out  on  the  bank.  He  first  poured  the  water  out  of 
his  gun-barrel  and  wiped  the  mud  off.  His  next 
thought  was  the  three  days'  rations  he  had  drawn 


20 


SI  KLEGG. 


that  morning.  He  opened  his  haversack,  and  poured 
out  the  water  it  had  caught.  With  it  went  his  sugar, 
coffee  and  salt.  His  hardtack  was  a  pasty  mess; 
his  meat  covered  with  sand  and  dirt.  He  turned 


JL 


SI   SAT  DOWN   HARD. 


the  haversack  inside  out,  and  swashed  it  out  in  the 
stream. 

Back  came  Capt.  McGillicuddy,  with  water  stream 
ing  from  the  down-turned  rim  of  his  hat,  and  his 
humor  bad.  He  was  ignorant  of  Si's  mishap. 


THROUGH  MUD  AND  MIRE.  21 

"Corporal  Klegg,  what  are  you  doing  back  here? 
Why  aren't  you  in  your  place?  I've  been  looking 
all  around  for  you.  The  company  wagon's  stalled 
back  somewhere.  That  spavin-brained  teamster's 
at  his  old  tricks.  I  want  you  to  take  five  men  off 
the  rear  of  the  company,  go  back  and  find  that 
wagon,  and  bring  it  up.  Be  smart  about  it." 

"Captain,"  remonstrated  Si,  "I'm  wetter'n  a 
drowned  rat.  I" 

"Well,  who  in  thunder  ain't?"  exploded  the  Cap 
tain.  "Do  I  look  as  dry  as  a  basket  of  chips?  Am 
I  walking  around  in  a  Panama  and  linen  clothes? 
Did  you  expect  to  keep  from  getting  your  feet  wet 
when  you  came  into  the  army  ?  I  want  none  of  your 
belly-aching  or  sore-toeing.  You  take  five  men  and 
bring  up  that  wagon  in  a  hurry.  Do  you  hear  me?" 

And  the  Captain  splashed  off  through  the  red  mud 
to  make  somebody  else  still  more  miserable. 

Si  picked  up  his  wet  gun  from  the  rain-soaked 
sod,  put  it  under  his  streaming  overcoat,  ordered 
the  five  drenched,  dripping,  dejected  boys  near  him 
to  follow,  and  plunged  back  into  the  creek,  which  had 
by  this  time  risen  above  his  knees.  He  was  past 
the  stage  of  anger  now.  He  simply  wished  that  he 
was  dead  and  out  of  the  whole  business.  A  nice,  dry 
grave  on  a  sunny  hillock  in  Posey  County,  with  a 
good  roof  over  it  to  keep  out  the  rain,  would  be  a 
welcome  retreat. 

In  gloomy  silence  he  and  his  squad  plodded  back 
through  the  eternal  mud  and  the  steady  downpour, 
through  the  miry  fields,  through  the  swirling  yellow 
floods  in  the  brooks  and  branches,  in  search  of  the 
laggard  company  wagon. 


22 


SI   KLEGG. 


Two  or  three  miles  back  they  came  upon  it,  stuck 
fast  in  a  deep  mud-hole.  The  enraged  teamster  was 
pounding  the  mules  over  the  head  with  the  butt  of 
his  blacksnake  whip,  not  in  the  expectation  of  getting 
any  further  effort  out  of  them — he  knew  better  than 
that — but  as  a  relief  to  his  overcharged  heart. 

"Stop  beatin'  them  mules  over  the  head,"  shouted 
Si,  as  they  came  up.  Not  that  he  cared  a  fig  about 
the  mules,  but  that  he  wanted  to  "jump"  somebody. 


STOP  BEATIN'  THEM  MULES.' 


"Go  to  brimstone  blazes,  you  freckle-faced  Posey 
County  refugee,"  responded  Groundhog,  the  team 
ster,  in  the  same  fraternal  spirit.  "I'm  drivin'  this 
here  team."  He  gave  the  nigh-swing  mule  a  "welt" 
that  would  have  knocked  down  anything  else  than  a 
swing  mule. 


THROUGH  MUD  AND  MIRE,  23 

"If  you  don't  stop  beatin'  them  mules,  by  thunder, 
I'll  make  you." 

"Make's  a  good  word,"  responded  Groundhog,  giv 
ing  the  off-swing  mule  a  wicked  "biff."  "I  never 
see  anything  come  out  of  Posey  County  that  could 
make  me  do  what  I  didn't  want  to." 

Si  struck  at  him  awkwardly.  He  v/as  so  hampered 
by  his  weight  of  soggy  clothes  that  there  was  little 
force  or  direction  to  his  blow.  The  soaked  teamster 
returned  the  blow  with  equal  clumsiness. 

The  other  boys  came  up  and  pulled  them  apart. 

"We  ain't  no  time  for  sich  blamed  nonsense," 
they  growled.  "We've  got  to  git  this  here  wagon 
up  to  the  company,  an'  we'll  have  the  devil's  own 
time  doin'  it.  Quit  skylarkin'  an'  git  to  work." 

They  looked  around  for  something  with  which  to 
make  pries.  Every  rail  and  stick  within  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  of  the  road  was  gone.  They  had  been 
used  up  the  previous  Summer,  when  both  armies  had 
passed  over  the  road. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  plod  off  through  mud 
and  rain  to  the  top  of  a  hill  in  the  distance,  where 
there  was  a  fence  still  standing.  A  half  an  hour 
later  each  of  the  six  came  back  with  a  heavy  rail  on 
his  shoulder.  They  pried  the  wagon  out  and  got  it 
started,  only  to  sink  again  in  another  quagmire  a 
few  hundred  yards  further  on. 

Si  and  the  boys  went  back  to  get  their  rails,  but 
found  that  they  had  been  carried  off  by  another 
squad  that  had  a  wagon  in  trouble.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  make  another  toilsome  journey 
to  the  fence  for  more  rails. 

After  helping  the  wagon  out  they  concluded  it 


24  SI  KLEGG. 

would  be  wiser  to  carry  their  rails  with  them  a  little 
way  to  see  if  they  would  be  needed  again. 

They  were — many  times  that  afternoon.  As  dark 
ness  came  on  Si,  who  had  the  crowning  virtue  of 
hopefulness  when  he  fully  recognized  the  unutterable 
badness  of  things,  tried  to  cheer  the  other  boys  up 
with  assertions  that  they  would  soon  get  into  camp, 
where  they  would  find  bright,  warm  fires  with  which 
to  dry  their  clothes,  and  plenty  of  hot  coffee  to  thaw 
them  out  inside. 

The  quick-coming  darkness  added  enormously  to 
the  misery  of  their  work.  For  hours  they  struggled 
along  the  bottomless  road,  in  the  midst  of  a  ruck  of 
played-out  mules  and  unutterably  tired,  disgusted 
men,  laboring  as  they  were  to  get  wagons  ahead. 

Finally  they  came  up  to  their  brigade,  which  had 
turned  off  the  road  and  gone  into  line-of -battle  in  an 
old  cotton-field,  where  the  mud  was  deeper,  if  pos 
sible,  than  in  the  road. 

"Where's  the  200th  Ind.?"  called  out  Si. 

"Here,  Si,"  Shorty's  voice  answered. 

"Where's  the  fires,  Shorty,"  asked  Si,  with  sink 
ing  heart. 

"Ain't  allowed  none,"  answered  his  partner 
gloomily.  "There's  a  rebel  battery  on  that  hill  there, 
and  they  shoot  every  time  a  match  is  lighted.  What've 
you  got  there,  a  rail  ?  By  George,  that's  lucky !  We'll 
have  something  to  keep  us  out  of  the  mud." 

They  laid  down  the  rail  and  sat  upon  it. 

"Shorty,"  said  Si,  as  he  tried  to  arrange  his  aching 
bones  to  some  comfort  on  the  rail,  "I  got  mad  at  you 
for  cussin'  the  Wabash  this  morning.  I  ain't  a  fluid 
talker  such  as  you  are,  an'  I  can't  find  words  to  say 


THROUGH  MUD  AND  MIRE.  25 

what  I  think.  But  I  jest  wisht  you  would  begin  right 
here  and  cuss  everybody  from  Abe  Lincoln  down  to 
Corporal  Si  Klegg,  and  everything  from  the  Wabash 
in  Injianny  down  to  the  Cumberland  in  Tennessee. 
I'd  like  to  listen  to  you." 


CHAPTER  II. 


SECOND  DAY'S  MARCH — THE  LONG  COLUMN  CRAWLS 
THROUGH  RAIN  AND  COLD  TO  MURFREESBORO. 

SI  KLEGG  was  generous  with  his  rail,  as  he  was 
with  all  things  among  his  comrades.  He  se 
lected  the  softest  part,  in  the  center,  for  him 
self  and  Shorty,  and  then  invited  the  other  boys  to 
share  its  hospitalities.  They  crowded  up  close  to  him 
and  Shorty  on  either  side,  and  there  seemed  to  come 
a  little  warmth  and  dryness  from  the  close  contact  of 
their  bodies. 

Si  was  so  mortally  tired  that  it  seemed  a  great 
relief  just  to  sit  still  and  rest,  though  the  rain  con 
tinued  to  pour  down. 

Shorty  fished  some  hardtack  and  fried  pork  out  of 
his  haversack,  and  also  gave  him  a  handful  of  ground 
coffee.  Si  munched  the  crackers  and  meat,  with  an 
occasional  nip  at  the  coffee.  His  spirits  began  to  rise 
just  a  trifle.  He  was  too  healthy  in  body  and  mind  to 
be  totally  downcast  for  long. 

"  'Tis  n't  much  of  a  supper,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"but  it  beats  nothin'  at  all  miles  and  miles.  Besides, 
I  was  mighty  lucky  in  gettin'  the  biggest  rail.  Some 
that  the  other  boys  has  are  no  good  at  all.  They'll 
let  'em  right  down  in  the  mud.  And  most  o'  the 
boys  has  no  rails  at  all.  I'm  awfully  sorry  for  'em." 

Then  he  began  to  wonder  if  they  were  not  over- 


SECOND  DAY'S  MARCH.  27 

cautious  about  the  nearness  of  the  enemy.  He  had 
been  in  the  army  just  long  enough  to  have  con 
tempt  for  the  stories  that  were  always  current 
with  a  certain  class  about  the  proximity  and  strength 
of  the  enemy.  Shorty  was  not  of  that  kind;  but, 
then,  Shorty  was  as  liable  to  be  imposed  upon  as 
anybody. 

"How  do  you  know  there's  a  rebel  battery  on  the 
hill  out  there?"  he  finally  asked  Shorty. 

"They  belted  into  the  Oshkosh  Terrors,  out  there 
to  our  right,  killed  a  mule,  scared  two  teamsters  to 
death,  and  knocked  over  three  or  four  kittles  of 
coffee.  It  was  awful  unlucky  about  the  coffee,"  an 
swered  Shorty. 

"How  long  ago  was  that?" 

"0,  several  hours  ago.  Just  after  we  turned  into 
the  field,  and  long  before  you  come  up." 

"Mebbe  they've  gone  off  now.  Mebbe,  if  they're 
there  yet,  their  ammynition's  so  soaked  that  they 
can't  shoot.  What  do  you  say  to  startin'  a  little 
fire?  It'd  be  an  immense  comfort.  Unless  we  can 
dry  out  a  little  we'll  be  soaked  into  such  mush  be 
fore  morning  that  we  can't  keep  our  shape,  and 
they'll  have  to  ladle  us  up  with  dippers." 

"It's  strictly  against  orders." 

"You  mean  it  was  against  orders  several  hours 
ago.  I  can't  see  nothin'  on  that  hill  over  there.  I've 
been  watchin'  for  half  an  hour.  There's  nothin' 
movin'.  Mebbe  the  orders  has  been  changed,  an'  you 
haint  heard  about  it,"  persisted  Si.  "Mebbe  the 
Orderly  that  was  bringing  'em  's  stuck  in  the  mud. 
Mebbe  the  rain's  soaked  'em  so's  they  can't  be  read. 
If  anybody's  got  any  dry  matches  I'm  goin'  to  chance 
it." 


28  SI  KLEGG. 

Word  was  passed  along  the  rail,  and  at  length 
one  of  the  boys  was  found  to  have  some  matches 
in  a  tin  box  which  was  proof  against  the  rain. 

Si  got  out  his  knife  and  whittled  down  a  corner  of 
the  rail  until  he  came  to  the  dry  part,  and  got  off 
some  shavings.  Splinters  were  contributed  by  the 
others,  and  after  several  failures  a  small  flame  was 
started. 

''Here,  what  in  the  world  are  you  men  doing 
there?"  came  in  the  stentorian  tones  of  the  Colonel, 
who  it  startled  Si  to  discover  was  sitting  a  short 
distance  behind  him.  'Tut  that  light  out  this  in 
stant." 

Even  before  the  command  could  be  obeyed,  four 
great  flashes  burned  out  like  lightning  in  the  murky 
darkness  on  the  hill-top.  Four  cannon  roared,  and 
four  shells  screeched  toward  Si  and  his  companions, 
who  instinctively  toppled  over  backward  into  the 
mud.  One  of  the  shells  struck  in  the  mud  a  few  yards 
in  front,  burst  with  a  deafening  report,  and  sent  over 
them  a  deluge  of  very  wet  Tennessee  real  estate. 

"The  battery's  out  there  yit,  Si,"  said  Shorty,  as 
they  gathered  themselves  up  and  carefully  stamped 
out  every  spark  of  fire. 

"It's  'tendin'  strictly  to  business,"  remarked  Wes 
Williams. 

"Its  ammynition  don't  seem  to  be  a  mite  wet," 
added  Jim  Hutchinson. 

"There,  you  see,  now,"  said  the  Colonel  sternly. 
"I'll  tie  up  by  the  thumbs  the  next  man  that  dares 
scratch  a  match." 

"You  jest  kin  if  I  do,"  muttered  Si,  scraping  off 
some  of  the  superabundant  mud,  and  resuming  his 


SECOND  DAY'S  MARCH.  29 

seat  on  the  rail.    "This  dog's  cured  of  suckin'  eggs." 
He  set  the  butt  of  his  gun  down  in  front  of  him, 

clasped  his  hands  around  the  barrel,  leaned  his  head 

on  them,  and  went  to  sleep. 

He  was  so  tired  that  he  could  have  slept  anywhere 

and  in  any  position.    He  was  dimly  conscious  during 


FROZEN  IN  THE  MUD. 

the  night  that  the  rain  ceased  and  that  it  turned 
bitter  cold.  He  was  not  going  to  wake  up  for  trifles 
like  that,  though.  When  Si  went  to  sleep  he  de 
voted  himself  entirely  to  that  and  nothing  else.  It 


30  SI  KLEGG. 

was  one  thing  that  he  never  allowed  any  interference 
with. 

But  with  the  first  gray  streaks  of  dawn  in  the 
east  some  uneasy,  meddlesome  spirit  in  the  200th 
Ind.  happened  to  be  awake,  and  he  awakened  the 
Adjutant,  who  cuffed  and  shook  the  headquarters 
drummer  until  he  awakened  and  beat  the  reveille. 
This  aroused  the  weary  Orderly-Sergeants,  who 
started  upon  the  task  of  getting  up  the  bone-wracked, 
aching-muscled  men.  In  10  minutes  there  was 
enough  discontent  and  bitter  grumbling  in  the  200th 
Ind.  to  have  furnished  forth  a  new  political  party. 

The  awakening  process  finally  reached  those  of  Co. 
Q  who  had  roosted  on  Si's  rail  all  night. 

Si  vigorously  insisted  on  being  let  alone;  that  he 
hadn't  been  asleep  .five  minutes,  and  that,  anyhow, 
it  was  not  his  turn  to  go  on  guard.  But  the  Orderly- 
Sergeant  of  Co.  Q  was  a  persistent  fellow,  and  would 
not  be  denied. 

When  Si  finally  tried  to  rise  he  found  that,  in 
addition  to  the  protests  of  his  stiff  legs,  he  was  pinned 
firmly  down.  Feeling  around  to  ascertain  the  cause, 
he  discovered  that  the  tail  of  his  overcoat  and  his 
shoes  had  become  deeply  imbedded  in  the  mud,  and 
frozen  solidly  there.  Shorty  was  in  the  same  fix. 

"Got  to  shuck  yourself  out  o'  your  overcoat,  and 
leave  them  gunboats  anchored  where  they  are,"  re 
marked  Shorty,  doing  as  he  said,  and  falling  in  for 
roll-call  in  his  stocking  feet. 

After  roll-call  Si  got  a  hatchet  from  one  of  the 
boys  and  chopped  his  and  Shorty's  shoes  out.  The 
overcoats  were  left  for  subsequent  effort,  for  the 
first  thing  was  to  get  some  wood  and  water  and  cook 
breakfast. 


SECOND  DAY'S  MARCH.  31 

The  morning  was  bitter  cold  and  the  sky  overcast, 
but  Si  felt  that  this  was  a  thousand  times  better 
than  the  cheerless  rain,  which  seemed  to  soak  his 
very  life  out  of  him. 

He  pounded  most  of  the  frozen  mud  off  his  shoes, 
picked  up  the  camp-kettle,  and  started  off  for  wood 
and  water,  broke  the  ice  on  the  creek,  took  a  good 
wash,  and  presently  came  back  with  a  load  of  dry 
pine  and  a  kettle  full  of  water. 

"My  joints  feel  like  I  think  an  old  wagon  does 
after  it's  gone  about  a  year  without  greasing,"  he 
remarked  to  Shorty,  who  had  a  good  fire  going;  "but 
I  think  that  after  I  get  about  a  quart  o'  hot  coffee, 
inside  of  me,  with  a  few  pounds  o'  pork  and  crackers, 
I'll  be  nearly  as  good  as  new  again.  My,  how  good 
that  grub  does  smell!  An'  did  you  ever  see  such  a 
nice  fire?" 

He  chopped  his  and  Shorty's  overcoats  out  while 
Shorty  was  cooking  breakfast,  and  when  at  last  he 
sat  down  on  one  end  of  his  rail  and  ate  enough 
toasted  hard  bread  and  crisp  fried  side-meat  to  feed 
a  small  family  for  a  week,  washing  it  down  with 
something  near  a  quart  of  black  coffee  sweetened 
with  coarse  brown  sugar,  life  began  again  to  have 
some  charms  for  him. 

"You're  sure  that  dumbed  battery's  gone  that 
shot  at  us  last  night,  are  you,  Shorty?"  he  said,  as 
he  drained  his  cup,  fastened  it  again  to  the  strap  of 
his  haversack,  and  studied  the  top  of  the  hill  with  a 
critical  eye. 

"They  say  it  is,"  said  Shorty,  between  bites.  "While 
you  was  down  at  the  crick  a  man  come  over  from  the 
camp  o'  the  Oshkosh  Terrors,  and  said  two  o'  their 


32  SI  KLEGG. 

companies  'd  been  onto  the  hill,  and  the  rebels  had 
gone." 

"I  wish  them  Oshkosh  fellers'd  mind  their  own 
business,"  said  Si,  irritably,  as  he  picked  up  his  gun 
and  began  rubbing  the  mud  and  rust  off.  "They're 
entirely  too  fresh  for  a  new  regiment.  That  battery 
was  none  of  theirs.  It  was  ours,  right  in  our  front, 
an'  if  they'd  let  it  alone  till  after  breakfast  we'd 
gone  up  and  taken  it.  It  was  just  the  right  size 
for  the  200th  Ind.,  and  we  wanted  a  chance  at  it. 
But  now  they've  had  to  stick  in  and  run  it  off." 

"Don't  worry,"  said  Shorty,  fishing  out  another 
cracker;  "it  hasn't  gone  too  far.  'Taint  lost.  You'll 
have  a  chance  at  it  some  other  time.  Mebbe  to-day 
yet." 

The  army  began  to  move  out  very  promptly,  and 
soon  the  200th  Ind.  was  called  to  take  its  place  in 
the  long  column  that  crawled  over  the  hills  and  across 
the  valleys  toward  Murfreesboro,  like  some  gigantic 
blue  serpent  moving  toward  his  prey. 

Miles  ahead  of  the  200th  Ind.'s  place  in  the  column 
the  rebels  were  offering  annoying  disputation  of 
farther  progress.  Lines  as  brown  as  the  dried  leaves 
on  the  oak  trees  would  form  on  the  hilltops,  bat 
teries  would  gallop  into  position,  and  there  would  be 
sharp  bangs  by  the  cannon  and  a  sputter  of 
musketry-fire. 

Then  the  long,  blue  serpent  would  wriggle  out  of 
the  road  into  the  fields,  as  if  coiling  to  strike.  Union 
batteries  would  rush  on  to  hilltops  and  fire  across 
valleys  at  the  rebel  cannon,  and  a  sputter  of  mus 
ketry  would  answer  that  from  the  leaf -brown  ranks 
on  the  hilltops,  which  would  dissolve  and  march  back 


SECOND  DAY'S  MARCH. 


33 


to  the  next  hilltop,  where  the  thing  would  be  gone 
over  again.     The  200th  Ind.  would  occasionally  see. 


WHAT  DO  YOU  SEE,  SHORTY?' 


one  of  these  performances  as  it  marched  over  and 
down  one  of  the  hills. 

As  the  afternoon  was  wearing  away  the  200th 


34  SI  KLEGG. 

Ind.  kept  nearing  the  front,  where  this  was  going 
on.  Finally,  when  the  dull  day  was  shading  into 
dusk,  and  the  brigade  ahsad  of  it  was  forming  in  the 
field  at  the  foot  of  a  hill  to  open  a  bickering  fire 
against  the  dun  line  at  the  top,  the  200th  Ind.  was 
taken  off  the  road  and  marched  away  over  to  the 
left,  where  it  was  put  into  line  in  front  of  a  dense 
grove  of  cedars. 

"Capt.  McGillicuddy,"  commanded  the  Colonel  to 
the  Captain  of  Co.  Q,  "advance  your  company  as 
skirmishers  to  the  edge  of  the  cedars,  and  send  a 
Corporal  and  five  men  into  the  thicket  to  see  if  there 
is  anything  there." 

"Corporal  Klegg,"  said  the  Captain,  "take  five 
men  off  the  left  of  the  company  and  go  in  and  see 
what's  in  there." 

Si  was  instantly  fired  with  the  importance  of  the 
duty  assigned  him.  He  sent  two  of  his  men  to  the 
left,  two  to  the  right,  while  he  and  Shorty,  a  little 
distance  apart,  struck  for  the  heart  of  the  thicket. 
They  made  their  way  with  difficulty  through  the 
dense  chaparral  for  some  minute's,  and  then  stopped, 
as  they  heard  voices  and  the  crashing  of  branches 
in  front. 

Si's  heart  thumped  against  his  ribs.  He  looked 
over  to  his  left,  and  saw  Shorty  standing  there 
peering  earnestly  into  the  brush,  with  his  gun  cocked 
and  ready  to  fire.  He  ran  over  to  him  and  whis 
pered  : 

"What  do  you  see,  Shorty?" 

"Nothin'  yit,  but  I  expect  to  every  minute,"  re 
plied  Shorty,  without  turning  his  intent  eyes.  Si's 
gun  was  already  cocked,  and  he  bent  his  head  for- 


SECOND  DAY'S  MARCH.  35 

ward  eagerly,  to  get  a  better  view.  But  he  could 
see  nothing,  except  that  the  tops  of  the  bushes  were 
shaking. 

"Shall  we  skip  back  an'  report?"  asked  Si. 

"I  ain't  goin'  till  I  see  something,"  said  Shorty, 
stoutly. 

"Nor  me,"  echoed  Si,  rather  ashamed  that  he  had 
suggested  it. 

"Steady,  there;  steady,  on  the  right!  Come  for 
ward  with  that  left  company,"  called  out  a  stern  voice 
in  front. 

"Must  be  a  full  regiment  in  there,"  whispered  Si, 
craning  his  neck  still  farther.  The  tramping  and 
crashing  increased. 

"Steady,  men,  I  tell  you !  Steady !  Dress  on  the 
center,"  commanded  the  unseen  Colonel.  "Forward! 
Forward !" 

In  spite  of  his  perturbation,  Si  noticed  that  the 
sounds  did  not  seem  to  be  coming  any  nearer. 

"We  must  get  a  squint  at  'em,"  he  said,  desperately, 
to  Shorty.  "Let's  git  down  an'  crawl  forward.  There 
must  be  an  openin'  somewhere." 

They  got  down  on  their  hands  and  knees,  so  as  to 
avoid  as  many  as  possible  of  the  thickly-interlaced 
branches.  Soon  they  came  to  a  rift  which  led  to  an 
opening  of  some  rods  in  circumference.  Raising  their 
heads  cautiously  above  a  moss-covered  log,  they  saw 
in  the  opening  a  stalwart  Sergeant  with  five  or  six 
men.  The  Sergeant  was  standing  there  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  tops  of  the  trees,  apparently  thinking 
of  the  next  series  of  commands  he  was  to  give,  while 
the  men  were  busy  breaking  limbs  off  the  cedars. 

Si  and  Shorty  immediately  grasped  the  situation. 


36  SI  KLEGG. 

"Forward,  Co.  Q!"  yelled  Si  at  the  top  of  his 
lungs.  "Surrender,  you  consarned  rebels,  or  we'll 
blow  your  heads  off,"  he  added,  as  he  and  Shorty 
jumped  forward  into  the  opening  and  leveled  their 
guns  on  the  squad. 

"What'n  thunder  was  you  fellers  makin'  all  that 
racket  fur,"  Si  asked  the  Sergeant  as  he  was  march 
ing  him  back  to  the  skirmish-line. 

"Ouah  Gunnel,"  explained  the  Sergeant,  "wuz 
afeared  you'ns  'd  try  to  flank  us  through  the  thicket, 
and  sent  me  down  to  make  a  rumpus  and  hold  you 
back  while  he  fit  you  in  front.  But  whar's  your 
company?" 

"We'll  come  to  it  soon,"  said  Si, 


CHAPTER  III. 


STILL  ON  THE  MARCH — SI  AND  SHORTY  STOP  ON  THE 
WAY  LONG  ENOUGH  TO  BAG  SIX  REBS. 

SI  CALLED  out  to  the  other  boys  by  name  to  come 
up  and  join  him. 

The  rebel  Sergeant  mentally  tallied  off  each 
name  as  it  was  called.  A  flush  of  shame  and  anger 
mounted  to  his  face  as  Si  concluded. 

"Gol  darn  hit,"  he  said,  "you'uns  hain't  got  ez 
many  ez  we'uns;  they  hain't  nigh  ez  good  men  ez 
we'uns,  an'  they'uns  ain't  heah.  We'uns  air  Ten- 
nesseans,  an'  you'uns  hain't." 

"We've  got  enough,  an'  they're  good  enough,"  said 
Si  sententiously.  "Injianny  turns  out  better  men 
than  Tennessee  ever  dreamed  o'  doing." 

"I  don't  believe  hit  a  mite,"  said  the  Sergeant, 
stooping  down  and  picking  up  a  piece  of  cedar,  which 
made  a  formidable  club.  "We'uns  is  not  a-gwine 
back  with  yo'uns  nary  a  step.  By  rights,  we'uns 
orter  take  yo'uns  back  with  we'uns.  But  I'm  willin' 
to  call  hit  off,  and  let  yo'uns  go  ef  yo'uns  '11  let 
we'uns  go.  Is  hit  a  bargain?" 

"Not  by  40  rows  o'  apple  trees  it  ain't,"  said  Si, 
stepping  back  a  little  to  get  a  better  range,  and  fixing 
his  bayonet.  "I've  set  my  heart  on  takin'  you  back 
to  Co.  Q,  an'  back  to  Co.  Q  you'll  go,  if  Si  Klegg 
knows  himself." 


38 


SI  KLEGG. 


"And  you'll  go  in  a  hurry,  too,"  said  Shorty.  "It's 
gettin'  late,  and  I'm  always  afraid  to  be  out  after 
dark.  Mosey,  now !" 


SI  REPORTS  TO  THE  COLONEL. 

The  other  rebels  were  picking  up  clubs  similar  to 
the  Sergeant's  and  casting  their  eyes  on  him  for  the 
signal  to  attack. 


STILL   ON    THE    MARCH.  39 

"See  here,"  said  Si  desperately,  cocking  his  gun. 
"Don't  waste  no  more  time  in  words.  This  hain't 
a  debatin'  society.  You're  goin'  back  to  Co.  Q  or 
going  somewhere  else  thunderin'  quick.  Sergeant, 
if  you  make  a  move  agin  me  I'll  surely  blow  your 
head  off  en  you,  an'  jab  my  bayonet  through  the 
next  man.  My  partner,  Shorty,  is  a  worse  man  than 
I  am,  an'  I  can't  tell  how  many  of  you  he'll  kill. 
He's  awful  quick-tempered,  too,  towards  evening,  an' 
liable  to  begin  shooting  any  minute  without  warnin'. 
It'll  save  several  lives  if  you  start  right  off  on  the 
jump,  straight  toward  the  rear,  an'  keep  it  up,  with 
out  looking  to  the  right  or  left,  until  you  reach  Co. 
Q.  You'll  find  the  trail  we  made  comin'  in.  Take 
it  this  minute." 

The  rebel  Sergeant's  eyes  looked  directly  into  the 
dark  muzzle  of  Si's  gun.  They  glanced  along  the 
barrel,  and  met  one  eye  looking  directly  through 
the  sights,  while  the  other  was  closed,  in  the  act 
of  taking  deliberate  aim.  He  decided  with  great 
promptness  that  there  were  many  reasons  why  he 
should  prefer  to  be  a  live  rebel  in  a  Yankee  prison, 
rather  than  a  badly-disfigured  dead  one  in  a  lonely 
cedar  thicket.  He  dropped  his  club,  turned  around, 
and  made  his  way  along  the  path  over  which  Si  had 
come.  The  rest  followed,  with  Si  and  Shorty  a  few 
paces  in  the  rear. 

Palpitating  with  pride,  Si  marched  his  prisoners 
up  to  the  company,  who  gave  him  three  cheers. 
The  Captain  ordered  him  to  report  with  his  prisoners 
to  the  Colonel. 

The  Colonel  praised  him  with  words  that  made 
his  blood  tingle. 


40 


SI   KLEGG. 


The  skirmishing  off  to  the  right  had  now  ceased. 
The  rebels  had  fallen  back  to  the  next  hilltop,  and 
the  200th  Ind.  was  ordered  to  go  into  camp  where 
it  stood. 


PREPARING  SUPPER. 


It  was  a  fine  place  for  a  camp.  The  mud  of  the 
day  before  was  frozen  into  stony  hardness.  The 
wagons  had  no  difficulty  in  coming  up.  There  was 
wood  and  water  in  abundance,  and  it  seemed  that 


STILL   ON    THE    MARCH.  41 

the  command  "Break  ranks — March!"  had  hardly 
been  uttered  when  great,  bright,  comfort-giving  fires 
of  fragrant  cedar  rails  flashed  up  all  along  the  line. 

Si  and  Shorty  found  several  cedar  stumps  and 
logs,  which  they  rolled  together,  and  made  a  splen 
did  fire.  They  cooked  themselves  an  ample  supper 
of  fried  pork,  toasted  hardtack,  and  strong,  fragrant 
coffee,  which  they  devoured  with  an  appetite  and 
a  keen  enjoyment  only  possible  to  healthy  young 
men  who  have  had  a  day  of  active  manuvering  and 
marching  in  the  crisp,  chill  air  of  December. 

Then  they  gathered  a  lot  of  cedar  branches,  and 
made  a  thick  mattress  of  them  near  the  fire,  upon 
which  to  spread  their  blankets  for  the  night. 

This  was  a  new  suggestion  by  Shorty,  and  an 
amazing  success. 

"I  declare,  Shorty,"  said  Si,  as  he  lay  down  on  the 
bed  to  try  it,  "I  often  wonder  where  you  get  all 
your  ideas.  For  a  man  who  wasn't  raised  on  the 
Wabash  you  know  an  awful  sight.  Mebbe,  if  you'd 
actually  been  born  in  Posey  County  you'd  a-knowed 
enough  to  be  a  Jigadier-Brindle.  Then  I'd  a  lost 
you  for  a  pard.  This's  a  great  invention.  Why, 
it's  softer  and  comfortabler  than  one  of  mother's 
feather  beds.  When  I  get  out  of  the  army,  I'm  going 
to  sleep  on  nothin'  but  cedar  boughs." 

"There,  you're  at  it  again — the  Wabash  forever," 
returned  Shorty,  good-humoredly.  "They  raise  the 
finest  corn  and  cattle  in  the  world  on  the  Wabash, 
I'll  admit,  and  some  fairly  good  soldiers.  But 
where'll  you  get  any  cedars  there  to  make  beds  with  ? 
You'll  have  to  go  back  to  sleepin'  on  wheat  straw  and 
corn  husks,  with  chicken-feather  pillers.  But  after 


42  SI  KLEGG. 

the  way  you  stood  up  to  that  rebel  Sergeant  to-day 
I'll  never  say  another  word  about  ager  and  milk-sick 
en  the  Wabash,  and  I'll  lick  any  other  feller  that 
does.  There  wasn't  a  speck  of  ager  in  your  gizzard 
when  you  ordered  him  forward,  or  you'd  blow  his 
Southern  Confederacy  head  off." 

"There  was  more  ager  there  than  you  thought, 
Shorty,"  Si  admitted  softly.  "I  was  awfully  scared, 
for  there  was  six  to  us  two,  and  if  that  feller  'd  had 
the  right  kind  of  sand  he'd  a-jumped  me  at  once, 
before  I  could  get  my  gun  up.  The  moment  he  be 
gan  to  palaver  I  knowed  I  had  him.  But  I'd  'a' 
died  in  my  tracks  before  I'd  let  him  go,  and  I  knowed 
you  would,  too.  You're  the  best  pard  a  feller  ever 
had." 

And  he  reached  over  and  took  Shorty's  rough 
hand  and  squeezed  it  affectionately. 

"I  can  bet  on  you  every  time,  even  when  I  don't 
think  it's  quite  safe  to  bet  on  myself.  And,  Shorty," 
he  continued,  with  his  eyes  kindling,  "it  was  worth 
all  that  we've  gone  through  since  we've  been  in 
the  army,  even  all  that  time  in  the  rain,  to  have  the 
Colonel  speak  as  he  did  to  us  before  the  rest  of  the 
boys.  I'd  be  willing  to  enlist  three  years  more  if 
father  and  mother  and  sisters,  and — and — Annabel 
could  have  heard  him.  I  tell  you,  war  has  some  glo 
rious  things  in  it,  after  all." 

He  sat  there  on  his  bed  before  the  fire,  with  his 
feet  curled  up  under  him  in  the  comfortable  way 
that  it  takes  months  of  field  service  to  acquire,  and 
gazed  steadily  into  the  bank  of  glowing  coals.  They 
suffused  his  face  and  body  with  their  generous 
warmth,  and  helped  lift  his  soul  toward  the  skies. 


STILL   ON    THE    MARCH.  43 

He  was  much  happier  than  he  had  ever  been  before 
in  his  life.  The  trials  of  the  day  before  were  hardly 
more  than  a  far-away  dream.  The  fears  and  anxie 
ties  of  the  coming  battle  were  forgotten.  The  ruddy 
embers  became  a  radiant  vista,  which  Pride  and 
Hope  and  Joy  filled  with  all  that  he  wanted  to  see. 
He  saw  there  the  dear  old  home  on  the  Wabash,  his 
father  seated  by  the  evening  lamp  reading  the  paper, 
while  his  mother  knit  on  the  other  side  of  the  table. 
His  sisters  were  busy  with  some  feminine  trifles, 
and  Annabel  had  come  in  to  learn  the  news.  They 
would  hear  what  he  had  done,  and  of  the  Colonel's 
words  of  praise  before  the  regiment,  and  his  father's 
heart  would  glow  with  pride  and  his  mother's  eyes 
suffuse  with  tears.  And  Annabel — but  it  passed 
words,  passed  thought,  almost,  what  she  would  say 
and  think. 

Just  then  tattoo  rang  out  clear  and  musical  on  the 
chill  night  air.  The  rattling  military  "good  night" 
had  never  before  had  any  special  charms  for  Si. 
But  now  he  thought  it  an  unusually  sweet  composi 
tion. 

"I  declare,"  he  said  to  Shorty,  "that  sheepskin 
band  of  our'n  is  improving.  They're  getting  to  play 
real  well.  But  I  ought  to  write  a  few  lines  home 
before  taps.  Got  any  paper.  Shorty?" 

"Much  paper  you'll  find  in  this  regiment  after  that 
rain,"  said  Shorty  contemptuously,  as  he  knocked 
the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  and  started  to  fall  in  for 
roll-call.  "Every  mite  of  paper  anybody  has  was 
soaked  to  spitwads.  But  mebbe  the  Orderly  might 
have  a  sheet." 

After  roll-call  Si  went  to  the  Orderly-Sergeant. 


44 


SI  KLEGG. 


Nothing  in  reason  could  then  be  refused  Si,  and  the 
Orderly  tore  a  couple  of  leaves  out  of  the  back  of  his 


AFTER  THE  MULES  STAMPEDED. 

treasured  diary,  which  had  escaped  the  rain,  and 
handed  them  to  him.  Si  fished  his  stub  of  a  pencil 
out  of  his  blouse-pocket,  laid  the  paper  on  the  back 
of  a  tin  plate,  and  began : 


STILL   ON    THE    MARCH.  45 

"Somewhere  in  Tennessee, 
December  the  27th,  1862. 

"Dere  Annabel:  We're  movin'  on  Murphysboro, 
where  we  expect  a  big  fite.  There's  bin  fitin'  goin' 
on  ever  3ince  we  left  Nashville,  but  the  200th  Ind. 
hain't  had  no  hand  in  it  so  far,  except  this  after 
noon  me  and  Shorty" 

He  stopped,  stuck  his  pencil  in  his  mouth,  and  be 
gan  to  study  just  what  words  he  should  use  to  de 
scribe  the  occurrence.  He  wanted  to  tell  her  all  that 
was  bubbling  in  his  heart,  and  yet  he  was  afraid  she 
would  think  him  an  intolerable  boaster,  if  he  told 
it  in  just  the  words  that  came  to  him.  He  was  more 
afraid  of  that  little  country  girl's  disapproval  than 
of  all  the  rebels  in  Murfreesboro. 

There  were  yells,  the  rattling  of  chains,  and  the 
sound  of  galloping  hoofs  coming  toward  him. 

"Hi,  there;  stop  them  condemned  mules!"  shouted 
the  voice  of  a  teamster. 

Si  jumped  to  his  feet,  for  the  mules  were  charging 
directly  for  his  fire,  and  were  almost  upon  him.  He 
dropped  paper,  pan  and  pencil,  and  jumped  to  one 
side,  just  in  time  to  avoid  a  rush  which  scattered 
his  fire,  his  carefully-prepared  bed,  and  all  his  be 
longings  under  24  flying,  hard-pounding  hoofs. 

"Blast  mules,  anyhow,"  said  the  driver,  coming 
up  with  his  whip  in  his  hand.  "I  didn't  hev  nothin' 
for  them  to  eat  but  a  cottonwood  pole  that  I  cut 
down  in  the  bottom.  But  they  must  have  smelt 
fodder  over  there  somewhere,,  and  they  broke  for  it 
like  the  devil  beatin'  tanbark.  Hope  you  weren't 
hurt,  pard." 

Si  and  Shorty  fixed  up  their  fire  again,  rearranged 


46  SI  KLEGG. 

their  scattered  cedar  boughs,  and  did  the  best  they 
could  with  their  torn  blankets.  , 

Si  found  that  a  mule's  hoof  had  landed  squarely 
on  his  tin  plate,  mashed  all  future  usefulness  out 
of  it,  and  stamped  his  letter  to  Annabel  into  un- 
recognizability. 

He  threw  the  rent  fragments  into  the  fire,  sighed 
deeply,  and  crawled  under  the  blankets  with  Shorty, 
just  as  three  sounding  taps  on  the  bass-drum  com 
manded  silence  and  lights  out  in  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  SUNSHINE  OF  LIFE — SI  FEELS  ONCE  MORE  THAT 
LIFE  IS  REALLY  WORTH  LIVING. 

THERE  come  times  in  every  man's  life  when  he 
feels  himself  part  of  the  sunshine  that  illu 
mines  and  warms  the  earth — 

The  lover,  after  he  has  won  his  best  girl's  consent. 

The  candidate,  after  he  has  been  elected  by  a  big 
majority. 

The  valedictorian,  after  his  address  has  been  re 
ceived  with  bursts  of  ringing  applause. 

The  clerk,  after  he  has  been  admitted  into  partner 
ship. 

The  next  morning  the  camp  of  the  200th  Ind. 
seemed  to  Si  Klegg  one  of  the  most  delightful  places 
on  earth. 

The  sun  shone  brightly  and  cheerily  through  the 
crisp  December  air.  The  fires  of  cedar  rails  sent 
up  a  pungent,  grateful  fragrance.  Hardtack,  pork 
and  coffee  tasted  better  than  he  had  ever  known 
them. 

Everybody  noticed  him  and  spoke  pleasantly  to 
him.  The  other  boys  of  Co.  Q  called  out  cheerily 
to  him  from  their  fires.  Those  from  other  companies 
would  stroll  over  to  take  a  look  at  him  and  Shorty, 
and  his  comrades  would  point  them  out  proudly  as 
fair  specimens  of  Co.  Q,  and  what  it  was  capable  of 
doing  when  called  upon  in  an  emergency. 


48 


SI  KLEGG. 


The   Captain   spoke  very   cordially  to  him   and 
Shorty,  the  busy  Adjutant  stopped  and  greeted  them 


THE  ADJUTANT  SMILED  ON  SI  AND  SHORTY. 

smilingly,  and  even  the  grave  Colonel  singled  them 
out  for  a  pleasant  "Good  morning"  and  an  inquiry 
as  to  whether  they  had  everything  they  wanted.  It 
did  not  seem  to  Si  that  there  was  anything  more  on 
earth  just  then  for  which  he  could  ask. 

The  200th  Ind.  having  been  at  the  head  of  the  col- 


THE    SUNSHINE    OF    LIFE.  49 

limn  when  it  halted,  was  to  take  the  rear  for  that 
day's  march,  and  so  remained  in  camp  for  a  while 
to  let  the  rest  pass  on. 

After  getting  things  ready  for  the  march  Si  and 
Shorty  took  a  stroll  through  the  camp  to  see  what 
was  to  be  seen.  They  came  across  their  prisoners 
seated  around  a  fire,  under  guard. 

How  different  they  looked  from  what  they  did  the 
evening  before,  when  the  two  partners  encountered 
them  in  the  depths  of  the  cedar  brake.  Then  they 
seemed  like  fierce  giants,  capable  of  terrible  things, 
such  as  would  make. the  heart  quail.  Now,  power 
less  of  harm,  and  awed  by  the  presence  of  multitudes 
of  armed  men  in  blue  filling  the  country  in  every 
direction  that  they  looked,  they  appeared  very  com 
monplace,  ignorant,  rough  men,  long-haired,  star 
ing-eyed,  and  poorly-clad  in  coarse,  butternut-dyed 
homespun,  frayed  and  tattered. 

"Father  gits  better  men  than  them  to  work  on  the 
farm  for  $8  a  month,"  Si  remarked  to  Shorty,  after 
a  lengthened  survey  of  them. 

"Eight  dollars  a  month  is  Congressman's  wages 
to  what  they  git  for  fightin'  for  the  Southern  Con 
federacy,"  answered  Shorty.  "I  don't  s'pose  any  one 
of  'em  ever  had  eight  real  dollars  in  his  pocket  in 
his  life.  They  say  they're  fightin'  to  keep  us  from 
takin'  their  niggers  away  from  'em,  and  yit  if  niggers 
wuz  sellin'  for  $1  a-piece  not  one  of  'em  could  buy 
a  six-months'-old  baby.  Let's  go  up  and  talk  to  'em." 

"I  don't  know  'bout  that,"  said  Si,  doubtfully. 
"Seems  to  me  I  wouldn't  be  particularly  anxious  to 
see  men  who'd  taken  me  prisoner  and  talked  very 
cross  about  blowin'  my  blamed  head  off." 

3 


50 


SI  KLEGG. 


"0,  that's  all  right,"  answered  Shorty  confidently. 
"Words  spoken  in  the  heat  of  debate,  and  so  on. 
They  won't  lay  them  up  agin  us.  If  they  do,  and 
want  any  satisfaction,  we  can  give  it  to  'em.  I  kin 
lick  any  man  in  that  crowd  with  my  fists,  and  so 


THE  PRISONERS. 


kin  you.  We'll  jest  invite  'em  to  a  little  argyment 
with  nature's  weepons,  without  no  interference  by 
the  guard.  Come  on." 


THE    SUNSHINE    OF    LIFE.  51 

The  prisoners  returned  their  greetings  rather 
pleasantly.  They  were  so  dazed  by  the  host  of 
strange  faces  that  Si  and  Shorty  seemed,  in  a  meas 
ure,  like  old  acquaintances. 

"Had  plenty  to  eat,  boys,"  asked  Shorty,  familiarly, 
seating  himself  on  a  log  beside  them  and  passing 
his  pipe  and  tobacco  to  the  Sergeant. 

"Plenty,  thankee,"  said  the  Sergeant,  taking  the 
pipe  and  filling  it.  "More'n  we'uns  've  had  sence 
we  left  home,  an'  mouty  good  vittles,  too.  You 
Yanks  sartinly  live  well,  ef  yo'uns  don't  do  nothin' 
else." 

"Yes,"  said  Shorty,  with  a  glance  at  his  mud- 
stained  garments,  "we're  bound  to  live  high  and 
dress  well,  even  if  we  don't  lay  up  a  cent." 

'"You  sartinly  do  have  good  cloze,  too,"  said  the 
Sergeant,  surveying  the  stout  blue  uniforms  with  ad 
miration.  "Yo'uns'  common  soldiers  've  better  cloze 
than  our  officers.  We'uns  got  hold  o'  some  o'  yo'uns' 
overcoats,  and  they  wear  like  leather." 

"There's  leather  in  'em,"  said  Shorty  unblushingly. 
"I  tell  you,  old  Abe  Lincoln's  a  very  smart  man. 
He  saw  that  this  war  was  costin'  a  heap  of  money, 
especially  for  clothes.  He  got  a  bright  idee  that  by 
soaking  the  clothes  when  they  were  new  and  green 
in  the  tan-vats,  jest  after  the  leather  wuz  taken  out, 
they'd  take  up  the  strength  o'  the  leather  out  o'  the 
juice,  and  wear  always.  The  idee  worked  bully,  and 
now  old  Abe  goes  every  morning  to  where  they're 
makin'  clothes  and  sees  that  every  stitch  is  put  to 
soak." 

"Nobody  but  a  Yankee'd  thought  o'  that,"  said  the 
rebel  reflectively. 


52  SI  KLEGG. 

"You  bet,"  assented  Shorty.  "Jeff  Davis'd  never 
think  of  it  if  he  lived  to  be  as  old  as  Methuselah. 
But  that's  only  the  beginnin'  of  Abe  Lincoln's  smart 
ness." 

"He's  a  durned  sight  smarter  man  than  we'uns 
thought  he  wuz  when  we  begun  the  war,"  admitted 
the  Sergeant.  "But  we'uns  '11  wollop  him  yit,  in 
spite  of  his  smartness." 

"We  kin  tell  more  about  that  a  few  months  later," 
returned  Shorty.  "It's  never  safe  to  count  the  game 
until  the  last  hand's  played.  We  hain't  fairly  be 
gun  to  lead  trumps  yit.  But  what  are  you  fellers 
fighting  for,  anyhow?" 

"We'uns  foutin'  for  our  liberty,  and  t'  keep  yo'uns 
from  takin'  our  niggers  away." 

The  reply  that  came  to  Shorty's  lips  was  that 
they  seemed  to  be  losing  a  great  deal  of  liberty  rather 
than  gaming  it,  but  he  checked  this  by  the  fear  that 
it  would  be  construed  as  an  ungentlemanly  boast  of 
their  capture.  He  said,  instead : 

"I  never  knowed  as  any  of  us  wanted  your  nig 
gers- — me  particularly.  I  wouldn't  take  a  wagon  load 
of  'em,  even  ii  the  freight  was  prepaid.  But,  let 
me  ask  you,  Sergeant,  how  many  niggers  do  you 
own?" 

"I  don't  own  nary  one." 

"Does  your  father  own  any?" 

"No,  he  don't." 

"Does  your  mother,  or  brothers,  uncles,  aunts,  or 
cousins  own  any?"  persisted  Shorty. 

"No,  thar  ain't  nary  one  owned  in  the  hull  family." 

"Seems  to  me,"  said  Shorty,  "you're  doin'  a  great 
deal  of  fightin'  to  keep  us  from  takin'  away  from 


THE    SUNSHINE    OF    LIFE.  53 

you  something  that  we  don't  want  and  you  hain't 
got.  That's  the  way  it  looks  to  a  man  from  north 
o'  the  Ohio  River.  Mebbe  there's  something  in 
the  Tennessee  air  that  makes  him  see  differently. 
I'll  admit  that  I've  changed  my  mind  about  a  goo4 
many  things  since  we  crossed  the  river." 

"I've  alluz  said,"  spoke  another  of  the  prisoners, 
"that  this  wuz  a  rich  man's  wah  and  a  pore  man's 
fout." 

"Well,"  said  Shorty,  philosophically,  "for  folks  that 
like  that  sort  o'  fightin,'  that's  the  sort  o'  fightin' 
they  like.  I'm  different.  I  don't.  When  I  fight  it's 
for  something  that  I've  got  an  interest  in." 

While  the  discusion  was  going  on  Si  had  been 
studying  the  appearance  of  the  prisoners.  In  spite  of 
their  being  enemies  his  heart  was  touched  by  their 
comfortless  condition.  Not  one  of  them  had  an 
overcoat  or  blanket.  The  Sergeant  and  a  couple  of 
others  had  over  their  shoulders  pieces  of  the  State 
House  carpet,  which  had  been  cut  up  into  lengths  and 
sewed  together  for  blankets.  Another  had  what  had 
once  been  a  gaudy  calico  counterpane,  with  the  pat 
tern  "Rose  of  Sharon"  wrought  out  in  flaming  colors. 
It  was  now  a  sadly-bedraggled  substitute  for  a 
blanket.  The  others  had  webs  of  jeans  sewed  to 
gether. 

The  buttons  were  gone  from  their  garments  in 
many  essential  places,  and  replaced  by  strings,  nails, 
skewers  and  thorns.  Worst  of  all,  almost  every  one 
of  them  was  nearly  shoeless.  A  sudden  impluse 
seized  Si. 

"Shorty,"  said  he,  "these  men  are  going  up  where 
the  weather  is  very  cold.  I  wish  I  was  able  to 


54  SI  KLEGG. 

give  each  of  them  a  warm  suit  of  clothes  and  a 
blanket.  I  ain't  though.  But  I  tell  you  what  I  will 
do;  I'll  go  down  to  the  Quartermaster  and  see  if 
he'll  issue  me  a  pair  of  shoes  for  each  of  'em,  and 
charge  it  to  my  clothin'  account." 

"Bully  idee,"  ejaculated  Shorty.  "I'll  go  you 
halves.  Mebbe  if  they  git  their  understandin'  into 
Yankee  leather  it'll  help  git  some  Yankee  idees 
into  their  understandin'.  See?" 

And  Shorty  was  so  delighted  with  his  little  joke 
that  he  laughed  over  it  all  the  way  to  the  Quarter 
master's  wagon,  and  then  rehearsed  it  for  that 
officer's  entertainment. 

Fortunately,  the  Quartermaster  had  a  box  of  shoes 
that  he  could  get  at  without  much  trouble,  and  he 
was  in  sufficiently  good  humor  to  grant  Si's  request. 

They  added  a  warm  pair  of  socks  to  each  pair  of 
shoes,  and  so  wrought  up  the  A.  Q.  M.'s  sympathies 
that  he  threw  in  some  damaged  overcoats,  and  other 
articles,  which  he  said  he  could  report  "lost  in 
action." 

They  came  back  loaded  with  stuff,  which  they 
dumped  down  on  the  ground  before  the  prisoners, 

with  the  brief  remark: 
« 

"Them's,  ill  yours.    Put  'em  on." 

The  prisoners  were  overwhelmed  by  this  generosity 
on  the  part  of  their  foes  and  captors. 

"I  alluz  thought,"  said  the  Sergeant,  "that  you 
Yankees  wuz  not  half  so  bad  ez  I  believed  that  yo'uns 
wuz.  Yo'uns  is  white  men,  if  yo'uns  do  want  to  take 
away  our  niggers." 

"Gosh,"  said  the  man  who  had  uttered  the  opinion 
that  it  was  a  rich  man's  war  and  a  poor  man's  fight, 


THE    SUNSHINE    OF    LIFE.  55 

"I'd  give  all  my  interest  in  every  nigger  in  Tennessee 
for  that  ere  one  pa'r  o'  shoes.  They're  beauties,  I 
tell  you.  I  never  had  so  good  a  pa'r  afore  in  all  my 
life." 


CHAPTER  V. 


LINING  UP  FOR  BATTLE — THE  200TH  IND.  GUARDS  THE 
WAGON  TRAIN,  AND  DEFEATS  AN  ATTACK. 

AIN  agin  to-day,"  said  Shorty,  disgust- 
edly,  as,  on  the  morning  of  Dec.  30, 
1862,  he  crawled  out  cf  the  shel 
ter  which  he  and  Si  had  constructed  by  laying 
a  pole  in  the  crotches  of  two  young  cedars, 
and  stretching  their  ponchos  and  pup-tents  over  it. 
"Doggoned  if  I  don't  believe  Tennessee  was  left  out 
in  the  flood,  and  they've  been  tryin'  to  make  up  for 
it  ever  since.  I'd  rather  have  the  flood  at  once,  and 
be  done  with  it,  for  then  I'd  join  the  navy  instead  of 
paddlin'  'round  in  this  dirty  glue  that  they  call  mud." 
"Never  saw  such  a  grumbler,  Shorty,"  said  Si 
cheerily,  as  he  punched  the  soaked  embers  together 
to  start  a  blaze  to  boil  their  coffee  by.  "Last  Sum 
mer  the  dust  and  dry  weather  didn't  suit  you.  Do 
you  want  to  do  your  soldierin'  in  heaven?" 

"Hurry  up  with  your  grub,  boys,"  said  the  Orderly- 
Sergeant,  who  came  spattering  through  the  muck  of 
leaves  and  mud  into  which  the  camping-ground  had 
been  trampled.  "The  regiment's  to  move  in  15  min 
utes.  The  200th  Ind.  guards  wagon-trains  to-day. 
Yesterday  Wheeler's  cavalry  got  in  among  our 
wagons  and  raised  thunder — burnt  about  a  mile  of 
'em." 


LINING   UP   FOR   BATTLE. 


57 


Shorty  grumbled :  "That  means  a  tough  day's  work 
pryin'  wagons  out  of  the  mud,  and  restin'  ourselves 


EARNING  THIRTEEN  DOLLARS  A  MONTH. 


between  times  runnin'  after  a  lot  o'  skippin',  cavort- 
in*  cavalry  that's  about  as  easy  to  ketch  as  a  half- 
bushel  o'  fleas.  Anything  I  hate  it's  rebel  cavalry — 


58  SI  KLEGG. 

all  tear-around  and  yell,  and  when  you  git  ready  to 
shoot  they're  on  the  other  side  o'  the  hill." 

"Well,"  said  Si,  removing  a  slab  of  sizzling  fat 
pork  from  the  end  of  his  rammer,  laying  it  on  his 
hardtack,  and  taking  a  generous  bite,  "we  mustn't 
allow  them  to  take  no  wagons  away  from  the  200th 
Ind.,  slosh  around  as  they  may.  We  want  all  that 
grub  ourselves." 

"Well,  hump  yourselves,"  said  the  Orderly-Ser 
geant,  as  he  spattered  on;  "fall  in  promptly  when 
assembly  blows.  Got  plenty  o'  cartridges?" 

Two  or  three  hours  later  every  man  in  the  200th 
Ind.,  wet  to  the  skin,  and  with  enough  mud  on  him 
to  be  assessable  as  real  estate,  was  in  a  temper  to 
have  sassed  his  gentle  old  grandmother  and  whipped 
his  best  friend.  He  believed  that  if  there  was  any 
thing  under  heavens  meaner  than  Tennessee  weather 
it  was  an  army  mule;  the  teamsters  had  even  less 
sense  and  more  contrariness  than  the  mules;  the 
army  wagon  was  a  disheartening  device  of  the  devil, 
and  Tennessee  roads  had  been  especially  contrived 
by  Jeff  Davis  to  break  the  hearts  of  Union  soldiers. 

The  rain  came  down  with  a  steady  pelt  that  drove 
right  through  to  the  body.  The  wagon  wheels  sank 
into  every  mud-hole  and  made  it  deeper.  Prying 
out  the  leading  ones  seemed  only  to  make  it  worse 
for  the  next.  The  discouraged  mules  would  settle 
back  in  the  breech  ings,  and  not  pull  an  ounce  at  the 
most  critical  moments.  The  drivers  would  become 
blundering  idiots,  driveling  futile  profanity.  In  spite 
of  all  the  mud  the  striving,  pushing,  pulling,  prying, 
lifting,  shouting  200th  Ind.  gathered  up  on  their 
hands  and  clothes,  it  increased  momentarily  in  the 
road. 


LINING   UP    FOR   BATTLE.  59 

The  train  had  strung  out  over  a  mile  or  more  of 
rocky  ledges  and  abysses  of  mire.  Around  each 
wagon  was  a  squad  who  felt  deeply  injured  by  the 
certainty  that  their  infernal  luck  had  given  them 
the  heaviest  wagon,  the  worst  mules,  and  the  most 
exasperating  driver  in  the  whole  division. 

"I  couldn't  've  made  a  doggoneder  fool  than 
Groundhog,  that  teamster,"  said  Shorty,  laying  down 
his  rail  for  a  minute's  rest,  "if  I'd  'a'  had  Thomp 
son's  colt  before  my  eyes  for  a  pattern.  That  feller 
was  born  addled,  on  Friday,  in  the  dark  of  the  moon." 

"Them  mules,"  dolefully  corroborated  Si,  scraping 
an  acre,  more  or  less,  of  red  Tennessee  soil  from 
his  overcoat  with  a  stick,  "need  to  be  broke  again — 
with  a  saw-log.  Luck  for  old  Job  that  the  devil 
didn't  think  o'  settin'  him  to  drive  mules.  He'd  'a* 
bin  a-goner  in  less'n  an  hour." 

"Doggone  it,  here  they  come,"  said  Shorty,  snatch 
ing  up  his  gun. 

Si  looked  in  the  direction  of  Shorty's  glance.  Out 
of  the  cedars,  a  mile  or  more  away,  burst  a  regi 
ment  of  rebel  cavalry,  riding  straight  for  the  front 
of  the  train. 

With  his  tribe's  keen  apprehension  of  danger, 
Groundhog  had  jumped  from  his  saddle,  nervously 
unhitched  his  mule,  and  sprung  into  the  saddle  again, 
ready  for  instant  fight. 

"Get  off  and  hook  that  mule  up  agin,"  commanded 
Si  sternly.  "Now  get  on  your  mule  and  go  to  the 
head  of  your  team,  take  the  leaders  by  the  bridles, 
and  stay  there." 

"If  you  ain't  standing  there  holding  your  mules 
when  we  come  back  I'll  break  your  worthless  neck." 


60  SI  KLEGG. 

The  bugle  sounded  "Kally  on  the  right  flank,"  and 
Si  and  Shorty  joined  the  others  in  a  lumbering  rush 
over  the  miry  fields  toward  the  right.  Their  soaked 
clothes  hung  about  them  like  lead.  They  had  not  a 
spoonful  of  breath  left  when  they  got  to  where,  half- 
a-mile  away,  Co.  A  had  taken  a  position  in  the  briers 
behind  a  rail  fence,  and  had  opened  a  long-ranged 
fire  on  the  cavalry,  which  was  manuvering  as  if 
trying  to  discover  a  way  to  take  the  company  in 
flank.  Another  fence  ran  at  right  angles  away  to  the 
right  of  Co.  A's  position.  The  cavalry  started  for 
that. 

"Capt.  McGillicuddy,"  shouted  the  Colonel,  "take 
your  company  back  to  that  fence  as  quick  as  you  can, 
run  along  back  of  it,  and  try  to  keep  those  fellows  on 
the  other  side." 

Away  the  panting  company  rushed  for  the  fence. 
The  field  was  overgrown  with  those  pests  of  the 
Southern  plowman,  called  locally  "devil's  shoe 
strings,"  which  stretch  from  furrow-ridge  to  furrow- 
ridge,  and  are  snares  to  any  careless  walker.  The 
excited  Indianians  were  constantly  tripped  on  these, 
and  fell  headlong  in  the  mud.  Down  Si  and  Shorty 
went  several  times,  to  the  great  damage  of  their 
tempers.  But  in  spite  of  all — rain,  mud,  lack  of 
breath  and  devil's  shoe-strings — the  company  got 
to  the  fence  in  advance  of  the  cavalry,  and  opened 
a  scattering  fire  as  each  man  could  get  his  damp  gun 
to  go  off.  Si  and  Shorty  ran  back  a  little  to  a  hillock, 
from  which  they  could  get  long-distance  shots  on 
where  the  cavalry  would  probably  try  to  tear  down 
the  fence. 

"It's  all  of  600  yards,  Si,"  said  Shorty,  as  he 


LINING    UP    FOR   BATTLE.  61 

leaned  against  a  young  oak,  got  his  breath  back  in 
long  gulps,  and  studied  the  ground.  "We  kin  make 
it,  though,  with  our  Springfields,  if  they'll  give  us 
time  to  cool  down  and  git  our  breaths.  I  declare  I 
want  a  whole  Township  of  fresh  air  every  second. 
That  last  time  I  fell  knocked  enough  breath  out  o' 
me  to  fill  a  balloon." 

"There,  they're  sendin'  out  a  squad  now  to  go  for 
the  fence,"  said  Si,  putting  his  sight  up  to  600 
yards.  "I'll  line  on  that  little  persimmon  tree  and 
shoot  as  they  pass  it.  I'll  take  the  fellow  on  the 
clay  bank  horse,  who  seems  to  be  an  officer.  You  take 
the  next  one  on  the  spotted  bay." 

"Better  shoot  at  the  hoss,"  said  Shorty,  fixing  his 
sight.  "Bigger  mark;  and  if  you  git  the  hoss  you 
git  the  man." 

The  squad  made  a  rush  for  the  fence,  but  as  the 
leader  crossed  the  line  Si  had  drawn  on  the  per 
simmon  tree  through  his  sights,  his  musket  cracked, 
and  the  horse  reared  and  fell  over  in  the  mud. 
Shorty  broke  the  shoulder  of  the  next  horse,  and  the 
rider  had  to  jump  off. 

"Bully  shots,  boys.  Do  it  again,"  shouted  the  Cap 
tain  of  Co.  Q,  hurrying  some  men  farther  to  the 
right,  to  concentrate  a  fire  upon  the  exposed  point. 

Si  and  Shorty  hastily  reloaded,  and  fired  again  at 
the  rebels,  who  had  pressed  on  toward  the  fence,  in 
spite  of  the  fall  of  their  leader.  But  not  having 
an  object  in  line  to  sight  on,  Si  and  Shorty  did  not 
succeed  in  bringing  anybody  down.  But  as  they 
looked  to  see  the  effect,  they  also  saw  a  cannon-flash 
from  a  hill  away  off  behind  the  cavalry,  and  the 
same  instant  its  rifled  shot  took  the  top  off  the 
young  oak  about  six  feet  above  Si's  head. 


62  SI  KLEGG. 

Shorty  was  the  first  to  recover  his  wits  and  tongue. 
"Doggoned  if  somebody  else  hain't  been  drawin'  a 


A  CLOSE  SHAVE. 


bead  on  trees/'  he  said,  looking  into  Si's  startled 
face.    "Knows  how  to  shoot,  too." 


LINING   UP   FOR   BATTLE.  63 

"I  didn't  notice  that  measly  gun  come  up  there. 
Did  you,  Shorty?"  said  Si,  trying  to  get  his  heart 
back  out  of  his  mouth,  so  that  he  could  speak  plainly. 

"No.  I  didn't.  But  it's  there  all  the  same,  and  the 
fellers  with  it  have  blood  in  their  eyes.  Le's  run 
over  to  where  the  other  boys  are.  I'm  a  private 
citizen.  I  don't  like  so  much  public  notice." 

They  joined  the  squad  which  was  driving  back 
the  rebels  who  had  started  out  to  break  the  fence. 

Presently  the  cavalry  wheeled  about  and  disap 
peared  in  the  woods.  The  rear  was  scarcely  out  of 
sight,  and  the  200th  Ind.  was  just  beginning  to 
feel  a  sense  of  relief,  when  there  was  a  sputter  of 
shots  and  a  chorus  of  yells  away  off  to  the  extreme 
left. 

"Just  as  I  expected,"  grumbled  Shorty.  "They 
are  jumping  the  rear  of  the  train  now." 

Leaving  Co.  A  to  watch  the  head  of  the  train,  the 
rest  of  the  regiment  bolted  off  on  the  double-quick 
for  the  rear.  They  did  not  get  there  a  moment 
too  soon.  Not  soon  enough,  in  fact.  As  they  came 
over  the  crest  of  the  hill  they  saw  Co.  B,  which 
had  been  with  the  rear,  having  more  than  it  could 
attend  to  with  a  horde  of  yelling,  galloping  rebels, 
who  filled  the  little  valley.  Co.  B's  boys  were  stand 
ing  up  manfully  to  their  work,  and  popping  away 
at  the  rebels  from  behind  fences  and  rocks,  but  the 
latter  had  already  gotten  away  from  them  a  wagon 
which  had  been  far  to  the  rear,  had  cut  loose  the 
mules  and  run  them  off,  and  were  plundering  the 
wagon,  and  trying  to  start  a  fire  under  it. 

The  fusillade  which  the  regiment  opened  as  the 
men  grained  the  crest  of  the  hill,  put  a  different  com- 


64 


SI  KLEGG. 


plexion  on  the  affair.     The  rebels  recognized  the 
force  of  circumstances,  and  speedily  rode  back  out  of 


GROUNDHOG  FLED. 

range,  and  then  out  of  sight.  As  the  last  of  them 
disappeared  over  the  hill  the  wearied  regiment 
dropped  down  all  around  to  rest. 


LINING   UP   FOR   BATTLE.  65 

"We  can't  rest  long,  boys,"  said  the  sympathetic 
Colonel;  "we've  got  to  start  these  wagons  along." 

Presently  he  gave  the  order: 

"Go  back  to  your  wagons,  now,  and  get  them  out 
as  quickly  as  you  can." 

Si  and  Shorty  took  a  circuit  to  the  left  to  get  on 
some  sod  which  had  not  been  trampled  into  mortar. 
They  heard  a  volley  of  profanity  coming  from  a  cedar 
brake  still  farther  to  the  left,  and  recognized  the 
voice  of  their  teamster.  They  went  thither,  and 
found  Groundhog,  who  had  fled  from  the  scene,  after 
the  manner  of  his  race,  at  the  first  sound  of  firing, 
but  had  been  too  scared  to  fasten  up  his  traces  when 
he  unhitched  his  saddle  mule.  These  had  flapped 
around,  as  he  urged  his  steed  forward,  and  the  hooks 
had  caught  so  firmly  into  the  cedars  when  he  plunged 
into  the  thicket  that  he  was  having  a  desperate  time 
getting  them  loose. 

"You  dumbed,  measly  coward,"  said  Si.  "I  told 
you  I'd  blow  your  head  offen  you  if  you  didn't  stay 
by  them  mules.  I  ought  to  do  it." 

"Don't,  Si,"  said  Shorty.  "He  deserves  it,  and  we 
kin  do  it  some  other  time.  But  we  need  him  now  in 
our  business.  He  hain't  much  of  a  head,  but  it's  all 
that  he's  got — and  he  can't  drive  without  it.  Le's 
git  the  mule  loose  first." 

They  got  the  mule  out  and  turned  him  around 
toward  the  wagons. 

"Now,"  said  Shorty,  addressing  Groundhog,  "you 
white-livered  son-in-law  of  a  jackass,  git  back  to 
that  wagon  as  fast  as  you  kin,  if  you  don't  want 
me  to  run  this  bayonet  through  you." 

There  was  more  straining  and  prying  in  the  dreary 
rain  and  fathomless  mud  to  get  the  wagons  started. 


66  SI  KLEGG. 

"Shorty,"  said  Si,  as  they  plodded  alongside  the 
road,  with  a  rail  on  one  shoulder  and  a  gun  on  the 
other,  "I  really  believe  that  this  is  the  toughest  day 
we've  had  yet.  What  d'you  s'pose  father  and 
mother'd  say  if  they  could  see  us?" 

"They'd  probably  say  we  wuz  earning  our  $13  a 
month,  with  $100  bounty  at  the  end  o'  three  years.," 
snapped  Shorty,  who  was  in  no  mood  for  irrelevant 
conversation. 

So  the  long,  arduous  day  went.  When  they  were 
not  pulling,  pushing,  prying,  and  yelling,  to  get  the 
wagons  out  of  mu dholes,  they  were  rushing  over  the 
clogging,  plowed  fields  to  stand  off  the  nagging  rebel 
cavalry,  which  seemed  to  fill  the  country  as  full  as 
the  rain,  the  mud,  the  rocks  and  the  sweeping  cedars 
did.  As  night  drew  on  they  came  up  to  lines  of  fires 
where  the  different  divisions  were  going  into  line-of- 
battle  along  the  banks  of  Stone  River.  The  mud 
became  deeper  than  ever,  from  the  trampling  of  tens 
of  thousands  of  men  and  animals,  but  they  at  least 
did  not  have  the  aggravating  rebel  cavalry  to  bother 
them.  They  found  their  division  at  last  in  an  old 
cottonfield,  and  were  instantly  surrounded  by  a  crowd 
of  hungry,  angry  men. 

"Where  in  blazes  have  you  fellers  bin  all  day?" 
they  shouted.  "You  ought  to've  got  up  here  hours 
ago.  We're  about  starved." 

"Go  to  thunder,  you  ungrateful  whelps,"  said  Si. 
"You  kin  git  your  own  wagons  up  after  this.  I'll 
never  help  guard  another  wagon-train  as  long  as  I'm 
in  the  army." 


CHAPTER  VI. 


BATTLE  OF  STONE  RIVER — THE  200TH  IND.  IS  PRAISED 
FOR  BRAVERY. 

THE  fagged-out  200th  Ind.  was  put  in  reserve  to 
the  brigade,  which  lay  in  the  line-of-battle. 
After  having  got  the  train  safely  into 
camp,  the  regiment  felt  that  it  was  incapable  of  mov 
ing  another  foot. 

While  their  coffee  was  boiling  Si  and  Shorty  broke 
off  a  few  cedar  branches  to  lay  under  them,  and 
keep  out  the  mud.  The  rain  still  drizzled,  cold, 
searching  and  depressing,  but  they  were  too  utterly 
tired  to  do  anything  more  than  spread  their  over 
coats  on  the  branches,  lay  their  blankets  and  ponchos 
over,  and  crawl  in  between. 

In  the  few  minutes  which  they  allowed  to  elapse 
between  getting  into  camp  and  going  to  sleep  they 
saw  and  heard  something  of  the  preparations  going 
on  around  them  for  the  mighty  battle,  but  body  and 
brain  were  too  weary  to  properly  "sense"  these.  They 
hardly  cared  what  might  happen  to-morrow.  Rest 
for  to-day  was  everything.  They  were  too  weary 
to  worry  about  anything  in  the  future. 

"It  certainly  looks,  Shorty,"  said  Si,  as  he  crawled 
in,  "like  as  if  the  circus  was  in  town,  and  the  big 
show'd  come  off  to-morrow,  without  regard  to  the 
weather." 


68  SI  KLEGG. 

"JLet  it  come  and  be  blamed  to  it,"  snorted  Shorty. 
"They  can't  git  up  nothin'  wuss'n  we've  bin  havin' 
to-day,  let  them  try  their  durndest.  But  I  tell  you, 
Mr.  Si  Klegg,  I  want  you  to  lay  mighty  still  to-night. 
If  you  git  to  rollin'  around  in  your  usual  animated 
style  and  tanglin'  up  the  bedclothes,  I'll  kick  you  out 
into  the  rain,  and  make  you  stay  there.  Do  you 
hear  me?" 

"You  bet  I'll  lay  quiet,"  said  Si,  as  together  they 
gave  the  skillful  little  kick  only  known  to  veteran 
campaigners  by  which  they  brought  the  blankets 
snugly  up  around  their  feet.  "You  could  sooner 
wake  up  a  fence-rail  than  me.  I  want  to  tell  you, 
too,  not  to  git  to  dreamin'  of  pryin'  wagons  out  of 
the  mud,  and  chasin'  rebel  cavalry.  I  won't  have  it." 

The  reveille  the  next  morning  would  have  promptly 
awakened  even  more  tired  sleepers  than  Si  and 
Shorty.  Even  before  the  dull,  damp  drums  began 
rolling  and  the  fifes  shrieking  the  air  of  enforced 
gaiety  along  the  sinuous  line  of  blue  which  stretched 
for  miles  through  red,  muddy  cottonfields  and  cedar 
tangles  wet  as  bath-room  sponges,  there  came  from 
far  away  on  the  extreme  righi  a  deepening  roll  of 
musketry,  punctuated  with  angry  cannon-shots  and 
the  faint  echo  of  yells  and  answering  cheers. 

"That's  McCook  opening  the  battle,"  said  the 
officers,  answering  the  anxious  looks  of  the  men. 
"He's  to  hold  the  rebels  out  there,  while  Crittenden 
sweeps  around  on  the  left,  captures  Murfreesboro, 
and  takes  them  in  the  rear." 

Miles  away  to  the  left  came  the  sound  of  musketry 
and  cannons,  as  if  to  confirm  this.  But  the  firing 
there  died  down,  while  that  to  the  right  increased 


BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER.  69 

with  regular,  crashing  volleys  from  muskets  and 
artillery. 

The  200th  Ind.  was  in  that  exceedingly  trying 
position  for  soldiers,  where  they  can  hear  everything 
but  see  nothing.  The  cedar  thicket  in  which  they 
stood  shut  off  the  view  in  every  direction.  The 
Colonel  kept  officers  and  men  standing  strictly  in 
place,  ready  for  any  contingency.  Si  and  Shorty 
leaned  on  their  muskets  and  anxiously  watched  the 
regimental  commander  as  he  sat  rigidly  in  his  sad 
dle,  with  his  fixed  gaze  bent  in  the  direction  of  the 
awful  tumult.  The  Adjutant  had  ridden  forward  a 
little  ways  to  where  he  could  get  a  better  view.  The 
other  officers  stood  stiffly  in  their  places,  with  the 
points  of  their  drawn  swords  resting  on  the  ground, 
and  their  hands  clasped  on  the  hilts,  and  watched 
the  Colonel  intently.  Sometimes  they  would  whisper 
a  few  words  to  those  standing  near  them.  The 

Captain  of  Co.  Q  drew  geometric  figures  in  the 
mud  with  the  point  of  his  sword. 

Constantly  the  deafening  crash  came  nearer,  and 
crept  around  farther  to  the  right. 

Si  gave  a  swift  glance  at  Shorty.  His  partner's 
teeth  were  set,  his  face  drawn  and  bloodless,  his 
eyes  fixed  immovably  on  the  Colonel. 

"Awful  fightin'  goin'  on  out  there,  Shorty,"  said 
Si,  in  hushed  voice.  "I'm  afraid  they're  lickin'  our 
fellers." 

"Confound  it!"  snorted  Shorty,  "why  in  thunder 
don't  they  move  us  out,  and  give  us  something  to  do  ? 
This  is  hell  standin'  here  listenin'." 

A  teamster,  hatless  and  coatless,  with  his  hair 


70 


SI  KLEGG. 


standing    up,    came    tearing    through    the    brush, 
mounted  on  his  saddle-mule. 

A  chorus  of  yells  and  curses  greeted  his  appear 
ance.  It  was  immense  relief  for  the  men  to  have 
something  to  swear  at. 


A  FRIGHTENED  TEAMSTER. 

"Run,  you  egg-sucking  hound. 
"Run,  you  scald-headed  dominie. 


BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER.  71 

"Somebody  busted  a  cap  in  your  neighborhood,  old 
white-liver." 

"Seen  the  ghost  of  a  dead  rebel,  Pilgarlic?" 

"Pull  back  your  eyes,  you  infernal  mulewhacker. 
A  limb'll  brush  'em  off." 

"Look  at  his  hair — standin'  up  stiffer'n  bristles  on 
a  boar's  back." 

"Your  mules  got  more  sand  'n  you.  They're  stand 
ing  where  you  left  'em." 

"Of  course,  you're  whipped  and  all  cut  to  pieces. 
You  was  that  when  you  heard  the  first  gun  crack." 

"Get  out  of  the  way,  and  let  him  run  himself  to 
death.  That's  all  he's  fit  for." 

"You've  no  business  in  men's  clothes.  Put  on 
petticoats." 

"Go  it,  rabbit;  go  it,  cotton-tail — you've  heard  a 
dog  bark." 

"Chickee — chickee — skip  for  the  barn.  Hawk's  in 
the  air." 

"Let  him  alone.  He's  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  and 
pay  his  sutler's  bill." 

The  teamster  gasped  out: 

"You'd  better  all  git  out  o'  here  as  fast  as  the 
Lord'll  let  you.  Johnson's  Division's  cut  all  to  pieces 
and  runnin'.  There'll  be  a  million  rebels  on  top  o' 
you  in  another  minnit." 

"Capt.  McGillicuddy,"  said  the  Colonel  sternly,  but 
without  turning  his  head,  "either  bayonet  that  cow 
ardly  rascal  or  gag  him  and  tie  him  to  a  tree." 

The  Captain  turned  to  give  the  order  to  Corp'l 
Klegg,  but  the  teamster  struck  his  mule  with  his 
whip,  and  went  tearing  on  through  the  brush  before 
the  order  could  be  given. 


72  SI  KLEGG. 

Some  severely-wounded  men  came  slowly  pushing 
their  way  through  the  chaparral. 

"It's  awful  hot  out  there,"  they  said.  "The  rebels 
got  the  start  of  us,  and  caught  our  battery  horses 
off  to  water.  They  outflanked  us  bad,  but  the  boys 
are  standin'  up  to  'em  and  they're  gettin'  help,  an  '11 
lick  the  stuffin'  out  of  'em  yet." 

The  regiment  gave  the  plucky  fellows  a  cheer. 

A  riderless  horse,  frantic  from  his  wounds  and 
the  terrific  noise,  tore  through  the  brush,  and  threat 
ened  to  dash  over  Co.  Q.  Si  and  Shorty  saw  the 
danger,  and  before  the  Captc.in  could  give  an  order 
they  sprang  forward,  and,  at  considerable  risk,  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  hold  of  the  reins  and  partially 
calming  the  poor  brute.  The  eagles  on  the  saddle 
cloth  showed  that  he  belonged  to  a  Colonel.  He  was 
led  to  the  rear,  and  securely  haltered  to  a  young 
cedar.  The  incident  served  a  purpose  in  distracting 
for  awhile  the  attention  of  the  regiment. 

The  noise  in  front  and  to  the  right  swept  farther 
away  for  a  little  while,  and  the  men's  hearts  rose 
with  a  cheer. 

"Now  the  reinforcements  are  getting  in.  Why  in 
(the  world  don't  they  send  us  forward?"  they  said. 

The  Colonel  still  sat  rigidly,  with  his  face  straight 
to  the  front. 

Then  the  noise  began  to  roll  nearer  again,  and 
the  men's  hearts  to  sink. 

The  wounded  men  coming  back  became  a  contin 
uous  procession.  They  spoke  less  confidently,  and 
were  anxious  to  know  what  was  taking  place  on 
other  parts  of  the  line. 

"The  whole  infernal  Southern  Confederacy's  out 


BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER.  73 

there,"  said  one  boy,  who  was  holding  his  shattered 
right  hand  in  his  left,  with  his  thumb  pressed  hard 
on  the  artery,  to  stanch  the  blood,  "in  three  lines- 
of -battle,  stretching  from  daybreak  to  sunset.  The 
boys  have  been  standing  them  off  bully,  though,  but 
I  don't  know  how  long  they  can  keep  it  up.  Thomas 
and  Crittenden  ought  to  be  walking  right  over  every 
thing,  for  there  can't  be  anybody  in  front  of  them. 
They're  all  out  there." 

Two  musicians  came  laboring  through,  carrying  a 
stretcher  on  which  was  an  officer  with  part  of  his 
face  shot  away.  Si  felt  himself  growing  white  around 
the  mouth  and  sick  at  the  stomach,  but  he  looked 
the  other  way,  and  drew  in  a  long,  full  breath. 

The  storm  now  seemed  to  be  rolling  toward  them 
at  railroad  speed.  Suddenly  the  woods  became  alive 
with  men  running  back,  some  with  their  guns  in 
their  hands,  many  without.  Some  were  white  with 
fear,  and  silent;  some  were  in  a  delirium  of  rage, 
and  yelling  curses.  Officers,  bareheaded,  and  wildly 
excited,  were  waving  their  swords,  and  calling  regi 
ments  and  companies  by  name  to  halt  and  rally. 

The  Adjutant  came  galloping  back,  his  horse 
knocking  the  fugitives  right  and  left.  He  shouted, 
to  make  himself  heard  in  the  din : 

"The  whole  division  is  broken  and  going  back. 
Our  brigade  is  trying  to  hold  the  rebels.  They  need 
us  at  once." 

The  Colonel  turned  calmly  in  his  saddle,  and  his 
voice  rang  out  clear,  distinct,  and  measured,  as  if 
on  parade: 

"Attention,  200th  Indiana!" 

"Load  at  will— LOAD !" 


74  SI  KLEGG. 

A  windrow  of  bright  ramrods  flashed  and  weaved 
in  the  air.  A  wave  of  sharp,  metallic  clicks  ran  from 
one  end  of  the  line  to  the  other. 

"Shoulder— ARMS!" 

"Right— FACE!" 

"Forward— MARCH!" 

What  happened  immediately  after  emerging  from 
the  cedars  Si  could  never  afterward  distinctly  recall. 
He  could  only  vaguely  remember — as  one  does  the 
impression  of  a  delirium — seeing,  as  the  regiment 
swung  from  column  into  line,  a  surging  sea  of  brown 
men  dashing  forward  against  a  bank  of  blue  run 
ning  along  a  rail  fence,  and  from  which  rose  inces 
sant  flashes  of  fire  and  clouds  of  white  smoke.  The 
200th  Ind.  rushed  down  to  the  fence,  to  the  right  of 
the  others;  the  fierce  flashes  flared  along  its  front; 
the  white  smoke  curled  upward  from  it.  He  did  not 
remember  any  order  to  begin  firing ;  did  not  remem 
ber  when  he  began.  He  only  remembered  presently 
feeling  his  gun-barrel  so  hot  that  it  burned  his  hand, 
but  this  made  him  go  on  firing  more  rapidly  than 
before.  He  was  dimly  conscious  of  his  comrades 
dropping  around  him,  but  this  did  not  affect  him. 
He  also  remembered  catching  sight  of  Shorty's  face, 
and  noticing  that  it  was  as  black  as  that  of  a  negro, 
but  this  did  not  seem  strange. 

He  felt  nothing,  except  a  consuming  rage  to  shoot 
into  and  destroy  those  billows  of  brown  fiends  surg 
ing  incessantly  toward  him.  Consciousness  only 
came  back  to  him  after  the  billows  had  surged  back 
ward  into  the  woods,  leaving  the  red  mud  of  the 
field  splotched  with  brown  lumps  which  had  lately 
been  men. 


BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER.  75 

As  his  mind  cleared  his  hand  flinched  from  the 
hot  gun-barrel,  and  he  looked  down  curiously  to  see 
the  rain-drops  turn  into  steam  as  they  struck  it.  His 
throat  was  afire  from  the  terrible  powder  thirst. 
He  lifted  his  canteen  to  his  lips  and  almost  drained 
it.  He  drew  a  long  breath,  and  looked  around  to 
see  what  had  happened  since  they  left  the  cedars. 
Shorty  was  by  his  side,  and  unhurt.  He  now  under 
stood  why  his  face  was  so  black.  He  could  feel  the 
thick  incrustation  of  powder  and  sweat  on  his  own. 
Several  of  Co.  Q  were  groaning  on  ths  ground,  and 
the  Captain  was  detailing  men  to  carry  them  back 
to  where  the  Surgeon  had  established  himself.  Two 
were  past  all  surgery,  staring  with  soulless  eyes 
into  the  lowering  clouds. 

"Poor  Bill  and  Ebe,"  said  Si,  gazing  sorrowfully 
at  the  bodies.  "Co.  Q  will  miss  them.  What  good 
boys  they  " 

"Were"  stuck  in  his  throat.  That  those  strong, 
active,  ever-ready  comrades  of  a  few  minutes  before 
now  merely  "were"  was  unspeakable. 

His  thoughts  were  distracted  by  a  rebel  battery  on 
the  hill  sending  a  volley  of  shells  at  the  fence.  Some 
went  over,  and  tore  gaps  in  the  cedars  beyond.  One 
struck  the  corner  of  the  fence  near  him,  and  set  the 
rails  to  flying. 

"I  like  fence-rails  in  their  place  as  well  as  any 
man,"  said  Shorty,  as  they  dodged  around;  "but  a 
fence-rail's  got  no  business  sailin'  'round  in  the  air 
like  a  bird." 

An  Aid  rode  up  to  the  Colonel. 

"The  General's  compliments,  Colonel.  He  directs 
me  to  express  to  you  his  highest  compliments  on  the 


76  SI  KLEGG. 

splendid  manner  in  which  you  have  defended  your 
position.  You  and  your  men  have  done  nobly.  But 
we  are  outflanked,  and  it  will  be  necessary  to  retire 
to  a  new  position  about  a  half-mile  to  the  rear.  You 
will  withdraw  your  regiment  by  companies,  so  as 
to  attract  as  little  attention  from  the  enemy  as  pos 
sible.  As  soon  as  they  are  under  cover  of  the 
cedars  you  will  move  rapidly  to  the  new  position." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Colonel,  saluting.  "You  will 
be  good  enough  to  say  to  the  General  that  my  men 
and  myself  appreciate  highly  his  praise.  We  are 
proud  to  receive  it,  and  shall  try  to  deserve  it  in 
the  future.  His  orders  shall  be  immediately  obeyed." 

"They  call  this  a  civil  war,"  said  Shorty,  as  an 
other  volley  of  shells  tore  around.  "Seems  to  me 
sometimes  that  it's  too  durned  civil.  If  we're  goin' 
to  git  out  of  here,  we  might  save  compliments  for 
a  quieter  time." 

One  by  one  the  companies  filed  back  into  the 
cedars,  Co.  Q  being  last.  Just  as  they  started  the 
rebels  on  the  opposite  hill  discovered  the  movement, 
raised  a  yell,  and  started  across  the  field. 

"Halt — Front !"  commanded  the  Captain.  "Those 
fellows  are  too  tumultuous  and  premature.  We  must 
check  them  up  a  little.  Wait  till  they  come  to  that 
little  branch,  then  everybody  pick  his  man  and  let 
him  have  it.  Aim  below  the  belt." 

The  frenzy  of  the  first  struggle  was  now  gone 
from  Si's  mind;  instead  had  come  a  deadly  deter 
mination  to  make  every  shot  tell. 

"I'm  goin'  to  fetch  that  mounted  officer  on  their 
right,"  he  said  to  Shorty  and  those  around  him. 

"Very  well,"  said  Shorty.    "I'll  take  that  Captain 


BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER.  77 

near  him  who's  wavin'  his  sword  and  yellin'.  The 
rest  o'  you  fellers  pick  out  different  men." 

The  rebel  line  was  in  the  weeds  which  bordered 
the  branch  when  the  Captain  gave  the  order  to 
fire. 

When  the  smoke  arose  the  mounted  officer  and  the 
yelling  Captain  were  down. 

"If  somebody  else  didn't  get  them,  we  did,"  said 
Shorty,  as  they  turned  and  rushed  back  into  the 
cedars. 

The  rebels  were  only  checked  momentarily.  They 
soon  came  swarming  on,  and  as  Co.  Q  crashed 
through  the  cedars  the  rebels  were  yelling  close  be 
hind.  Fortunately,  they  could  not  do  any  effective 
firing,  on  account  of  the  brush.  But  when  they  came 
to  the  edge  of  the  thicket  there  was  a  long  run  across 
a  furrowed,  muddy  cottonfield,  to  reach  the  knoll  on 
which  the  brigade  was  re-forming.  The  battery 
was  already  in  action  there,  throwing  shells  over 
the  heads  of  Co.  Q  at  the  rebels  swarming  out  of 
the  cedars  in  pursuit. 

Si  and  Shorty  threw  away  overcoats,  blankets, 
haversacks  and  canteens — everything  which  would 
impede  their  running,  except  their  guns  and  car 
tridge-boxes.  Their  caps  were  gone,  and  Si  had  lost 
one  shoe  in  the  mud.  They  all  sat  down  on  the 
ground  for  a  minute  and  panted  to  get  their  breath. 

The  rebels  were  checked,  but  only  temporarily. 
They  were  thronging  out  in  countless  multitudes,  lin 
ing  up  into  regiments  and  brigades,  preparatory  to 
a  rush  across  the  field  upon  the  brigade.  Away 
to  the  right  of  the  brigade  rebel  batteries  had  been 
concentrated,  which  were  shelling  it  and  the  ground 
to  the  rear,  to  prevent  any  assistance  being  sent  it. 


78  SI  KLEGG. 

"Captain,"  said  the  Colonel,  riding  up  to  Co.  Q, 
"the  General  says  that  we  have  got  to  stay  here  and 
hold  those  fellows  back  until  the  new  line  can  be 
formed  along  the  pike.  We  haven't  ammunition 
enough  for  another  fight.  You'll  have  to  send  a 
Corporal  and  a  squad  back  to  the  pike  to  bring  up 
some  more.  Pick  out  men  that'll  be  sure  to  come 
back,  and  in  a  hurry." 

"Corp'l  Klegg,"  said  the  Captain,  without  an  in 
stant's  hesitation,  "you  hear  what's  to  be  done.  Take 
five  men  and  go." 

Si  looked  around  to  see  if  there  was  someone  he 
could  borrow  a  shoe  from.  But  that  was  hardly  a 
time  when  men  were  likely  to  lend  shoes.  He  picked 
Shorty  and  four  others.  They  flung  down  their 
guns  and  started  on  a  run  for  the  pike. 

The  batteries  were  sweeping  the  fields  with  shells, 
but  they  were  so  intent  on  their  errand  that  they 
paid  no  attention  to  the  demoniac  shrieks  of  the 
hurtling  pieces  of  iron. 

They  gained  the  other  side  of  the  field,  but  as 
they  entered  the  welcome  shelter  of  the  woods  they 
encountered  an  officer  with  a  drawn  sword,  com 
manding  a  line  of  men. 

"Stop  there,  you  infernal,  cowardly  rascals,"  he 
yelled.  "Pick  up  those  guns  there,  and  get  into 
line,  or  I'll  shoot  you.  You,  Corporal,  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself." 

"We're  after  ammunition  for  the  200th  Ind.," 
gasped  Si.  "We  must  have  it  right  away.  Where's 
the  division  ammunition  train?" 

"That  ammunition  story's  played.  Can't  work  it 
on  me.  Where's  your  regiment?  Where's  your 


BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER.  79 

caps?  Where's  your  shoes?  Where's  your  guns? 
You're  rattled  out  of  your  senses.  Stop  here  and 
cool  off.  Pick  up  guns  there  and  fall  into  line." 

"Name  o'  God,  Lieutenant,"  said  Shorty  excitedly. 
"This's  no  time  for  any  foolishness.  Our  regiment's 
out  there  on  the  hill  without  any  ammunition.  The 
rebels  are  gittin'  ready  to  jump  it,  four  or  five  to 
one.  Don't  fool,  for  heaven's  sake.  There's  not  a 
minute  to  waste.  Come  with  us  and  help  us  git 
the  ammunition.  That's  a  blame  sight  more  impor 
tant  than  stoppin'  these  here  runaways,  who're  no 
good  when  they  are  stopped.  Come  along,  for  God's 
sake." 

His  earnestness  impressed  the  Lieutenant. 

"Lieut.  Evans,"  he  called  out,  "take  command  of 
the  line  while  I  go  back  with  these  men  to  the 
ammunition-train.  I  can  get  it  quicker  for  them 
than  they  can.  Your  Colonel  should  have  sent  a 
commissioned  officer  with  you." 

"The  Colonel  needs  all  the  officers  he  has  left 
with  him,"  panted  Shorty,  running  ahead  of  the  rest. 
"Everybody  back  there's  got  all  he  can  attend  to,  and 
we  couldn't  really  be  spared." 

There  was  a  crowd  of  similar  men  surging  around 
the  ammunition  wagons,  each  eager  to  get  his  load 
and  rush  back.  The  covers  of  the  wagons  had  been 
torn  off,  and  a  man  stood  in  each,  pitching  the 
boxes  to  the  clamoring  details.  All  were  excited  and 
reckless.  The  pitching  would  be  wild,  or  the  catch 
ing  bad,  and  occasionally  a  box  would  strike  a  man 
on  the  head  or  body  and  knock  him  down.  He  would 
scarcely  stop  to  swear,  but  snatch  up  his  precious 
box  and  rush  off  toward  his  regiment. 


80  SI  KLEGG. 

"Open  out  here,  let  us  in,"  commanded  the  Lieuten 
ant,  striking  right  and  left  with  the  flat  of  his  sword. 
It  was  not  a  moment  for  gentle  courtesies.  The 
crowd  opened  up,  and  Si  and  Shorty  pushed  in  near 
the  wheels. 

"Now  give  us  six  boxes  in  a  hurry,"  commanded 
the  Lieutenant. 

Si  caught  the  first  box,  Shorty  the  second,  and 
before  the  Lieutenant  was  hardly  done  speaking  the 
rest  had  theirs,  and  started  back  on  the  run,  accom 
panied  by  the  Lieutenant.  The  boxes  were  very 
heavy  and  the  mud  was  deep,  but  they  went  faster 
than  they  had  ever  done,  even  when  running  from 
the  rebels. 

"I'm  awfully  afraid  you'll  have  a  time  getting 
across  the  field  there,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  as  they 
came  to  the  edge,  and  he  surveyed  the  ground  in 
front  doubtfully.  "Lieut.  Evans  says  they've  moved 
a  battery  up  closer,  and  are  sweeping  the  field  with 
canister." 

"We  don't  care  what  they're  shootn',"  said  Si  reso 
lutely.  "We're  goin'  back  to  the  regiment  with  these 
boxes,  or  die  a-tryin'." 

"Go  on,  then,  and  God  help  you,"  said  the  Lieuten 
ant.  "I'd  go  with  you  if  I  could  do  any  good." 

Si  arranged  his  box  for  a  desperate  rush.  A  blast 
of  canister  swept  through,  cutting  down  shrubs, 
splattering  the  mud,  and  shrieking  viciously. 

"Let's  get  as  far  as  we  can  before  they  fire  again," 
he  shouted,  and  plunged  forward.  Half-way  across 
the  field  his  foot  caught  in  a  devil's  shoe-string," 
and  down  he  went  in  the  mud,  with  the  heavy  box 
driving  him  deeper. 


BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER. 


81 


Just  then  another  blast  of  canister  hurtled  across 
the  field. 


A  LUCKY  FALL. 


"Golly,  it  was  lucky,  after  all,  that  I  was  tripped," 

4 


82  SI  KLEGG. 

said  Si,  rising,  stunned  and  dripping.  "That  load 
of  canister  was  meant  for  me  personally." 

Two  minutes  later  he  flung  the  box  down  before 
the  company,  and  sank  panting  on  the  ground.  The 
others  came  up  after.  Some  had  teen  grazed  by 
canister,  but  none  seriously  wounded.  They  arrived 
just  in  the  nick  of  time,  for  the  regiment  had  ex 
pended  its  last  cartridge  in  repulsing  the  last  assault, 
and  was  now  desperately  fixing  bayonets  to  meet 
the  next  with  cold  steel.  The  lids  of  the  boxes  were 
pried  off  with  bayonets,  and  the  Sergeants  ran  along 
the  companies  distributing  the  packages.  The  as 
sault  was  met  with  a  stream  of  fire,  given  with 
steady  deadliness,  which  sent  the  rebels  back  to  their 
covert. 

An  Aid  dashed  across  the  field  to  the  brigade 
commander. 

"The  line  is  now  formed,"  he  said.  *  Retire  your 
command  to  it." 

That  night,  after  the  battle  had  ceased,  Si  and 
Shorty  were  seated  on  a  rail  by  the  Nashville  pike 
munching  rations  which  they  had  luckily  found  in 
a  thrown-away  haversack.  They  were  allowed  no 
fires,  they  had  no  blankets  nor  overcoats,  and  it 
was  bitter  cold. 

"Shorty,  you  said  last  night  you  was  sure  that 
they  couldn't  git  up  nothin'  to-day  that'd  be  as  bad 
as  what  we  had  yesterday,"  said  Si.  "I  bel'eve  that 
I'd  rather  guard  wagon-trains  and  fight  cavalry 
than  have  such  another  day  as  this." 

"I  think  the  lake  of  brimstone'd  be  a  pleasant 
change  from  this,"  snorted  Shorty. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


AFTER   THE   FIRST   DAY — THE   DISCOMFORTS   OF   THAT 
LAST  NIGHT  OF  1862. 

IT  WAS  so  desperately  cold  and  comfortless  that 
Si  and  Shorty  felt  that  they  must  do  something 
or  perish. 

There  were  some  fragments  of  cracker-boxes  near. 
With  these  they  dug  a  hole  several  inches  deep,  put 
some  splinters  in,  and  started  a  stealthy  blaze.  They 
were  careful  to  sit  on  the  side  toward  the  rebels,  the 
better  to  hide  from  them  any  sight  of  it.  It  was  a 
very  small  fire,  but  there  was  more  relief  in  it  than 
Si  had  before  gotten  from  those  a  thousand  times 
larger.  It  kept  his  unshod  foot  from  freezing,  and 
brought  the  blood  back  to  his  numb  hands. 

"Just  think,  Shorty,"  said  Si;  "night  before  last 
we  had  a  whole  panel  of  fence  on  the  fire,  and  all 
our  blankets  and  overcoats,  and  yet  you  kicked.  I 
believe  this  is  a  judgment  on  you  for  not  being 
thankful  for  what  you  receive." 

"Judgment  be  blowed,"  ejaculated  Shorty.  "This 
ain't  no  judgment;  it's  just  durned  luck — that  is, 
what  isn't  foolishness  in  sendin'  a  boy  to  mill.  If 
we'd  had  only  half  as  many  men  out  there  in  the 
cedars  as  the  rebels  had  we'd  licked  thunder  out  of 
'em.  We  simply  couldn't  whip  four  or  five  to  one. 
McCook  didn't  size  up  his  job  right." 


84  SI  KLEGG. 

"Well,  we  have  something  to  be  thankful  for,"  said 
Si,  determined  to  see  the  bright  side  of  things. 
"Neither  of  us  got  hurt,  which  is  a  blessing." 

"Don't  know  whether  it  is  or  not.  If  we  are  goin' 
to  freeze  to  death  before  mornin'  I'd  rather've  bin 
shot  the  first  volley." 

The  misty  darkness  around  them  was  filled  with 
noise  and  motion.  Men  who  had  become  separated 
from  their  regiments  were  wandering  around  trying 
to  find  them,  in  the  bewildering  maze  of  men,  wagons 
and  animals.  Officers  were  calling  aloud  the  names 
of  regiments  to  bring  together  stragglers.  Aids  were 
rushing  around  to  find  Generals  and  Colonels  to  give 
and  receive  orders  and  instructions.  Regiments 
and  batteries  were  marching  hither  and  yon  to  get 
into  position  and  complete  the  formation  of  the  line 
for  the  morrow's  battle.  The  200th  Ind.,  which 
had  fallen  back  in  good  order  with  its  brigade,  was 
well  together,  and  made  an  island  around  which  a 
restless  sea  of  humanity  flowed  and  eddied.  Cheer 
less  as  was  its  bivouac  in  the  cold  mud,  yet  it  was 
infinitely  preferable  to  being  lost  in  the  inextricable 
confusion  that  reigned  over  those  cottonfields  on  that 
sorrowful  night  of  Dec.  31,  1862. 

"I'm  not  goin'  to  freeze  to  death,"  said  Si,  starting 
up,  at  last.  "I'm  going  to  look  around  and  see  if  I 
can't  find  something  to  make  us  more  comfortable. 
Shorty,  hold  on  to  that  hole  in  the  ground.  It's  all 
that  we've  got  left  in  the  world,  and  if  we  lose  that 
I  don't  know  what'll  become  of  us." 

"Better  stay  here,  and  not  go  wanderin'  off  into 
that  mob,"  remonstrated  Shorty.  "You'll  git  lost 
entirely,  and  never  find  your  way  back." 


AFTER  THE   FIRST   DAY. 


85 


"I'll  not  get  lost,"  responded  Si.    "I've  got  the  lay 
o'  the  ground  in  my  mind.     If  I  did,"  he  continued 


FINDING   A   GOOD    THING. 

proudly,  "it'd  be  easy  to  find  you  agin.     Everybody 
knows  where  the  200th  Ind.  is." 

He  went  only  a  little  ways,  and  carefully,  at  first. 


86  SI  KLEGG. 

He  was  rewarded  by  kicking  against  an  object  which 
upon  examination  proved  to  be  a  well-filled  haver 
sack,  which  someone  had  flung  away  in  his  hurry. 
He  carried  it  back,  rejoicing,  to  Shorty. 

"Finders  is  keepers,"  said  Shorty,  unbuckling  the 
knapsack.  "We'll  just  call  this  fair  exchange  for 
what  we've  throwed  away  in  to-day's  hustle.  Let's 
open  her  up." 

"Some  new  recruit's,"  said  Si,  as  they  examined 
the  inside.  "Looks  like  the  one  I  packed  from 
Injianny.  What's  this?  I  declare  if  it  ain't  a  pair 
o'  new  shoes,  and  about  my  size;  and  some  socks. 
I  tell  you,  Shorty,  I'm  in  luck." 

He  pulled  the  muddy  socks  off  his  shoeless  foot, 
and  drew  on  one  of  the  warm,  homemade  affairs, 
and  then  the  shoe.  Both  fitted  well.  He  put  on  the 
other  sock  and  shoe,  and  life  at  once  seemed  brighter. 

"Shorty,"  said  he,  "I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  could 
find  a  blanket  and  an  overcoat.  You  keep  on  holding 
that  hole  down,  and  I'll  go  out  agin.  I  won't  be 
gone  long,  for  I'm  dead  tired.  Just  as  soon  as  I 
find  an  overcoat  or  a  blanket  to  put  between  us  and 
the  mud,  I'll  come  back  and  we'll  lay  down.  Every 
joint  in  me  aches." 

He  started  off  less  carefully  this  time.  His  new- 
shoes  made  him  feel  more  like  walking.  He  was 
some  distance  from  the  regiment  before  he  knew  it. 
He  found  an  overcoat.  It  had  been  trampled  into 
the  mud  by  thousands  of  passing  fr.et,  but  still  it 
was  an  overcoat,  and  it  was  not  a  time  to  be  too  nice 
about  the  condition  of  a  garment.  Presently  he 
found  a  blanket  in  similar  condition.  He  pulled  on 
the  overcoat,  and  threw  the  blanket  over  his  shoul- 


AFTER   THE  FIRST   DAY.  87 

ders.  He  felt  warmer,  but  they  were  very  heavy. 
Still,  he  thought  he  would  go  on  a  little  ways  farther, 
and  perhaps  he  would  find  another  overcoat  and 
blanket,  which  would  fix  out  both  him  and  his 
partner. 

All  this  time  men  were  sweeping  by  him  in  com 
panies,  regiments  and  squads;  batteries  were  mov 
ing  in  all  directions,  and  mounted  officers  were  mak 
ing  their  way  to  and  fro.  Filling  up  the  spaces  be 
tween  these  were  hundreds  of  men,  single  and  in 
small  groups,  wandering  about  in  search  of  their 
regiments,  and  inquiring  of  everyone  who  would  stop 
to  listen  to  them  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  regiments, 
brigades  and  divisions.  No  one  could  give  any  satis 
factory  information.  Organizations  which  had 
formed  a  line  two  miles  long  in  the  morning  had  been 
driven  back,  frequently  in  tumult  and  disorder,  for 
miles  through  the  thickets  and  woods.  Fragmentary 
organizations  had  been  rallied  from  time  to  time. 
A  fragment  of  a  regiment  would  rally  at  one  point 
with  fragments  of  other  regiments  and  make  a  stand, 
while  other  regiments  would  rally  at  widely-sep 
arated  places  and  renew  the  fight,  only  to  be  pushed 
back  again  toward  the  Nashville  Pike.  Regiments 
and  brigades  that  had  remained  nearly  intact  had 
been  rapidly  shifted  from  one  point  to  another,  as 
they  were  needed,  until  the  mind  could  not  follow 
their  changes,  or  where  nightfall  had  found  them, 
or  whither  they  had  been  shifted  to  form  the  new 
line. 

At  last  Si  succeeded  in  picking  up  another  over 
coat  and  blanket  out  of  the  mud,  and  started  io  go 
back  to  the  regiment. 


88  SI  KLEGG. 

But  where  was  the  regiment?  He  had  long  since 
lost  all  track  of  its  direction.  He  had  been  so  intent 
upon  studying  the  ground  for  thrown-away  clothing 
that  he  had  not  noticed  the  course  he  had  taken. 

It  suddenly  dawned  on  him  that  he  was  but  one 
drop  in  that  great  ocean  of  35,000  men,  surging 
around  on  the  square  miles  lying  between  the  Nash 
ville  Pike  and  Stone  Kiver.  He  looked  about,  but 
could  see  nothing  to  guide  him.  His  eyes  rested 
everywhere  on  dark  masses  of  moving  men.  Those 
immediately  around  him  were  inquiring  weariedly 
for  their  own  regiments;  they  had  no  patience  to 
answer  inquiries  as  to  his  own.  Discouraged,  he 
determine^  to  walk  as  straight  ahead  as  possible  in 
the  direction  which  he  had  come,  and  see  where 
that  would  bring  him.  He  was  so  tired  that  he 
could  scarcely  drag  one  foot  after  another,  but  he 
plodded  on.  At  length  he  drew  out  of  the  throng  a 
little,  and  saw  that  he  was  approaching  the  banks 
of  a  large  stream.  This  disheartened  him,  for  they 
had  not  been  within  miles  of  Stone  River  during  the 
day.  He  saw  a  group  of  men  huddled  around  a 
larger  fire  than  had  been  permitted  near  the  front. 
This,  too,  was  discouraging,  for  it  showed  that  he 
had  been  forging  toward  the  rear.  But  he  went 
up  to  the  group  and  inquired: 

"Do  any  o'  you  know  where  the  200th  Ind.  is?" 

The  men  had  become  wearied  out  answering  sim 
ilar  questions,  and  were  as  cross  as  soldiers  get  to 
be  under  similar  circumstances. 

"The  200th  Ind.,"  snapped  one;  "better  go  back  to 
the  rear-guard  and  inquire.  The  straggler-ketchers 
've  got  'em." 


AFTER   THE  FIRST   DAY.  89 

"No,"  said  another;  "they  skipped  out  before  the 
rear-guard  was  formed,  and  were  all  drowned  trying 
to  swim  the  Cumberland." 

"They  say  the  Colonel  went  on  foot,"  said  a  third, 
"and  was  the  first  man  in  the  regiment  to  reach 
Nashville.  Made  the  best  long-distance  run  on 
record." 

"You  infernal  liars,"  roared  Si;  "if  I  wasn't  so 
tired  I'd  lick  the  whole  caboodle  of  you.  But  I'll 
say  this :  "Any  man  who  says  that  the  200th  Ind. 
run,  or  that  our  brave  Colonel  run,  or  that  any  man 
in  it  run,  is  a  low-down,  measly  liar,  and  hain't  a 
grain  a'  truth  in  him,  and  he  daresn't  take  it  up." 

It  was  a  comprehensive  challenge,  that  would  have 
met  with  instantaneous  response  at  any  other  time, 
but  now  the  men  were  too  exhausted  for  such  vanities 
as  fisticuffs. 

"O,  go  off  and  find  your  rattled,  lousy  Hoosiers," 
they  shouted  in  chorus.  "Go  talk  to  the  Provost- 
Marshal  about  'em.  He's  got  the  most  of  'em.  The 
rest  are  breaking  for  the  Wabash  as  fast  as  their 
legs  can  carry  them.  Don't  be  bothering  us  about 
that  corn-cracking,  agery  crowd." 

"Where'd  you  leave  your  regiment,  you  chuckle- 
headed  straggler?" 

"You  were  so  rattled  you  couldn't  tell  which  way 
they  went." 

"Where's  your  gun?" 

"Where's  your  cartridge-box  and  haversack?" 

"Where's  your  cap?" 

"You  were  so  scared  you'd  'a'  throwed  away  your 
head  if  it'd  been  loose!" 

"Clear  out  from  here,  you  dead-beat." 


90  SI  KLEGG. 

Si  was  too  sick  at  heart  to  more  than  resolve  that 


SI'S  CHALLENGE. 

he  would  remember  each  one  of  them,  and  pay  them 
off  at  some  more  convenient  time.     He  turned  and 


AFTER   THE   FIRST   DAY.  91 

walked  back  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  direction 
in  which  he  had  come.  He  knew  that  his  regiment 
was  at  the  front,  and  he  had  been  forging  toward 
the  rear.  He  knew  vaguely  that  the  front  was  some 
where  near  the  Nashville  Pike,  and  as  he  wearily 
wound  around  and  through  the  bewildering  masses, 
he  inquired  only  for  the  Nashville  Pike. 

He  reached  the  Pike,  at  last,  just  as  he  was  sinking 
with  fatigue.  The  dreary  rain  had  set  in  again,  and 
he  had  determined  to  give  the  thing  up,  and  sit  down, 
and  wait  for  morning.  He  saw  a  feeble  glimmer  of 
light  at  a  distance,  and  decided  to  make  one  more 
effort  to  reach  it,  and  inquire  for  his  regiment. 

"Partner,  have  you  any  idee  where  the  200th  Ind. 
is?"  he  said  meekly  to  the  man  who  was  crouching 
over  the  fire  in  the  hole. 

"Hello,  Si,"  said  Shorty.  "I  had  given  you  up 
long  ago.  Of  course,  you  went  off  and  got  lost  in 
that  mob,  as  I  told  you  you  would.  Next  time  you'll 
have  sense  enough  to  mind  what  I  say." 

"O,  Shorty,"  groaned  Si,  "don't  say  nothing.  I've 
nigh  walked  my  legs  offen  me.  I  think  I've  tramped 
over  every  foot  of  ground  betwixt  here  and  Overall's 
Crick.  But  I've  brought  back  two  overcoats  and  two 
blankets." 

"That's  bully,"  answered  Shorty,  much  mollified. 
"Say,  I've  got  an  idee.  D'you  see  that  white  thing 
over  there?  That's  a  wagon.  The  mules  've  been 
taken  away,  and  it's  been  standing  there  for  an  hour. 
I've  seen  the  Lieutenants  and  the  Orderly-Sergeant 
sneak  back  there,  and  I  know  what  they're  up  to. 
They're  goin'  to  sleep  in  the  wagon.  Of  course, 
they're  officers,  and  got  the  first  pick.  But  we  kin 


92  SI  KLEGG. 

lay  down  under  it,  and  get  out  of  the  rain.  Be 
sides,  it  looks  as  if  the  ground  was  drier  up  there 
than  it  is  down  here." 

They  slipped  quietly  back  to  the  wagon,  and  were 
lucky  enough  to  find  a  little  hay .  in  the  feed-box, 
which  they  could  lay  down  to  spread  their  blankets 
upon.  They  pulled  the  tail-gate  off  and  set  it  up  on 
the  side  from  which  the  rain  was  coming. 

"There,"  said  Shorty,  as  they  crawled  in.  "Si, 
what'd  you  do  without  me?  Ain't  I  a  comfort  to 
you  every  minute  of  your  life?" 

"You  certainly  are,  Shorty,"  said  Si,  as  he  fell 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A   GLOOMY   NEW   YEAR'S   DAY — THE    TWO   ARMIES   LIE 
FROWNING  AT  EACH  OTHER. 

SI  WAS  awakened  the  next  morning  by  the  rain 
dashing  down  squarely  on  his  upturned  face. 
He  was  lying  on  the  flat  of  his  back,  sleeping 
the  sleep  of  the  utterly  outworn,  and  he  got  the  full 
force  of  the  shower. 

"Plague  take  it,  Shorty,"  said  he,  kicking  his  snor 
ing  partner,  "you're  at  your  old  tricks  again  — 
scrougin'  me  out  o'  the  tent  while  I'm  asleep.  Why 
can't  you  lay  still,  like  a  white  man?" 

"It's  you,  dod  rot  you,"  grumbled  Shorty,  half- 
awakening.  "You're  at  your  old  tricks  o'  kickin'  the 
tent  down.  You  need  a  10-acre  lot  to  sleep  in,  and 
then  you'd  damage  the  fence-corners." 

They  were  both  awake  by  this  time,  and  looked 
around  in  amazement. 

"We  went  to  sleep  nice  and  comfortable,  under  a 
wagon  last  night,"  said  Shorty,  slowly  recalling  the 
circumstances.  "The  two  Lieutenants  and  the  Or 
derly  had  the  upper  berth,  and  we  slept  on  the 
ground-floor." 

"Yes,"  assented  Si;  "and  someone's  come  along, 
hitched  mules  to  our  bedroom  and  snaked  it  off." 

"Just  the  way  in  the  condemned  army,"  grumbled 
Shorty,  his  ill-humor  asserting  itself  as  he  sat  up 
and  looked  out  over  the  rain-soaked  fields.  "Never 
kin  git  hold  of  a  good  thing  but  somebody  yanks  it 


94 


SI  KLEGG. 


away.  S'pose  they  thought  that  it  was  too  good  for 
a  private  soldier,  and  they  took  it  away  for  some 
Major-General  to  sleep  under." 


A  DISAGREEABLE  AWAKENING  FOR  SHORTY  AND  SI. 

"Well,  I  wonder  what  we're  goin'  to  do  for  grub?" 
said  Si,  as  his  athletic  appetite  began  to  assert  itself. 


A   GLOOMY   NEW    YEAR'S   DAY.  .95 

"Our  own  wagons,  that  we  had  such  a  time  guarding, 
are  over  there  in  the  cedars,  and  the  rebels  are  filling 
themselves  up  with  the  stuff  that  we  were  so  good  to 
bring  up  for  them." 

"It  makes  me  jest  sizzle,"  said  Shorty,  "to  think 
of  all  we  went  through  to  git  them  condemned  wag 
ons  up  where  they'd  be  handiest  for  them." 

Si  walked  down  the  line  toward  where  the  Regi 
mental  Headquarters  were  established  under  a  per 
simmon  tree,  and  presently  came  back,  saying: 

"They  say  there's  mighty  small  chance  of  gettin' 
any  grub  to-day.  Wheeler  burnt  three  or  four  miles 
of  our  wagons  yesterday,  and's  got  possession  of  the 
road  to  Nashville.  We've  got  to  fight  the  battle  out 
on  empty  stomachs,  and  drive  these  whelps  away  be 
fore  we  kin  get  a  square  meal." 

Jan.  1,  1863,  was  an  exceedingly  solemn,  unhappy 
New  Year's  Day  for  the  Union  soldiers  on  the  banks 
of  Stone  River.  Of  the  44,000  who  had  gone  into 
the  line  on  the  evening  of  Dec.  30,  nearly  9,000  had 
been  killed  or  wounded  and  about  2,000  were  pris 
oners.  The  whole  right  wing  of  the  army  had  been 
driven  back  several  miles,  to  the  Nashville  Pike. 
Cannon,  wagon-trains,  tents  and  supplies  had  been 
captured  by  the  rebel  cavalry,  which  had  burned 
miles  of  wagons,  and  the  faint-hearted  ones  mur 
mured  that  the  army  would  have  to  surrender  or 
starve. 

There  was  not  ammunition  enough  to  fight  an 
other  battle.  The  rebel  army  had  suffered  as  heav 
ily  in  killed  and  wounded,  but  it  was  standing  on  its 
own  ground,  near  its  own  supplies,  and  had  in  addi 
tion  captured  great  quantities  of  ours. 


96  SI  KLEGG. 

The  mutual  slaughter  of  the  two  armies  had  been 
inconceivably  awful — inexpressibly  ghastly,  shud 
dering,  sickening.  They  had  pounded  one  another 
to  absolute  exhaustion,  and  all  that  sullen,  lowering, 
sky-weeping  Winter's  day  they  lay  and  glared  at 
one  another  like  two  huge  lions  which  had  fanged 
and  torn  each  other  until  their  strength  had  been 
entirely  expended,  and  breath  and  strength  were 
gone.  Each  was  too  spent  to  strike  another  blow, 
but  each  too  savagely  resolute  to  think  of  retreating. 

All  the  dogged  stubbornness  of  his  race  was  now 
at  fever  point  in  Si's  veins.  Those  old  pioneers 
and  farmers  of  the  Wabash  from  whom  he  sprang 
were  not  particularly  handsome  to  look  at,  they  were 
not  glib  talkers,  nor  well  educated.  But  they  had  a 
way  of  thinking  out — rather  slowly  and  awkwardly 
it  might  be — just  what  they  ought  to  do,  and  then 
doing  it  or  dying  in  the  effort — which  made  it  very 
disastrous  for  whoever  stood  in  their  way.  Those 
who  knew  them  best  much  preferred  to  be  along 
with  them  rather  than  against  them  when  they  set 
their  square-cornered  heads  upon  accomplishing 
some  object. 

Si  might  be  wet,  hungry,  and  the  morass  of  mud 
in  which  the  army  was  wallowing  uncomfortable  and 
discouraging  to  the  last  degree,  but  there  was  not 
the  slightest  thought  in  his  mind  of  giving  up  the 
fight  as  long  as  there  was  a  rebel  in  sight.  He  and 
Shorty  were  not  hurt  yet,  and  until  they  were,  the 
army  was  still  in  good  fighting  trim. 

The  line  of  the  200th  Ind.  was  mournfully  shorter 
than  it  was  two  days  before,  but  there  were  still  sev 
eral  hundred  boys  of  Si's  stamp  gathered  resolutely 


A   GLOOMY    NEW   YEAR'S   DAY.  97 

around  its  flag,  the  game  little  Colonel's  voice  rang 
out  as  sharply  as  ever,  and  the  way  the  boys  picked 
up  their  guns  and  got  into  line  whenever  a  sputter 
of  firing  broke  out  anywhere  must  have  been  very 
discouraging  to  Gen.  Bragg  and  his  officers,  who 
were  anxiously  watching  the  Union  lines  through 
their  glasses  for  signs  of  demoralization  and  retreat. 

"We  licked  'em  yesterday,  every  time  they  come  up 
squarely  in  front  o'  the  200th  Ind.,"  Si  said  to  Shorty 
and  those  who  stood  around  gazing  anxiously  on  the 
masses  of  brown  men  on  the  other  side  of  the  field. 
"We  can  do  it  again,  every  time.  The  only  way  they 
got  away  with  us  was  by  sneakin'  around  through 
the  cedars  and  takin'  us  in  the  rear.  We're  out  in 
the  open  ground  now,  an'  they  can't  get  around  our 
flanks."  And  he  looked  to  the  extreme  right,  where 
every  knoll  was  crowned  with  a  battery  of  frown 
ing  guns. 

"They  got  their  bellies  full  o'  fightin'  yesterday," 
added  Shorty,  studying  the  array  judicially.  "They 
hain't  none  o'  the  brashness  they  showed  yesterday 
mornin',  when  they  were  jumpin'  us  in  front,  right, 
left  and  rear  at  the  same  minute.  They're  very 
backward  about  comin'  forward  acrost  them  fields 
for  us  to-day.  I  only  v/ish  they'd  try  it  on." 

But  the  forenoon  wore  away  without  the  rebels 
showing  any  disposition  to  make  an  assault  across 
the  muddy  fields.  Si's  vigilant  appetite  took  advan 
tage  of  the  quiet  to  assert  its  claims  imperiously. 

"Shorty,"  said  he,  "there  must  be  something  to 
eat  somewhere  around  here.  I'm  goin'  to  look  for  it." 

"You'll  have  just  about  as  much  chance  of  findin' 
it,"  said  Shorty  dolefully,  "among  that  mob  o'  fam- 


98  SI  KLEGG. 

ished  Suckers  as  you  would  o'  findin'  a  straw-stack 
in  the  infernal  regions.  But  I'll  go  'long  with  you. 
We  can't  lose  the  regiment  in  the  day  time." 

"By  the  way,  Shorty,"  said  Si,  happening  to  glance 
at  the  sleeves  of  the  overcoats  which  he  had  picked 
up,  "we  both  seem  to  be  Sergeants." 

"That's  so,"  assented  Shorty.  "Both  these  are 
Sergeant's  overcoats.  We'll  take  our  guns  along, 
and  play  that  we  are  on  duty.  It  may  help  us  out 
somewhere." 

Things  looked  so  quiet  in  front  that  the  Captain 
gave  them  permission,  and  off  they  started.  It 
seemed  a  hopeless  quest.  Everywhere  men  were 
ravenous  for  food.  They  found  one  squad  toasting 
on  their  rammers  the  pieces  of  a  luckless  rabbit  they 
had  cornered  in  a  patch  of  briars.  Another  was 
digging  away  at  a  hole  that  they  alleged  contained 
a  woodchuck.  A  third  was  parching  some  corn 
found  in  a  thrown-away  feed  box,  and  congratulat 
ing  themselves  upon  the  lucky  find. 

Finally  they  came  out  upon  the  banks  of  Stone 
River  at  the  place  to  which  Si  had  wandered  during 
the  night.  Si  recognized  it  at  once,  and  also  the 
voices  that  came  from  behind  a  little  thicket  of  paw 
paws  as  those  of  the  men  with  whom  he  had  had  the 
squabble. 

Si  motioned  to  Shorty  to  stop  and  keep  silent, 
while  he  stepped  up  closer,  parted  the  bushes  a  little, 
looked  through,  and  listened. 

Two  men  were  standing  by  a  fire,  which  was  con 
cealed  from  the  army  by  the  paw-paws.  Four  oth 
ers  had  just  come  up,  carrying  rolled  in  a  blanket 
what  seemed  to  be  a  dead  body.  They  flung  it  down 


A   GLOOMY   NEW   YEAR'S   DAY.  99 

by  the  fire,  with  exclamations  of  relief,  and  unrolled 
it.  It  was  the  carcass  of  a  pig  so  recently  killed  that 
it  was  still  bleeding. 

"Hello,"  exclaimed  the  others  joyfully;  " where 
did  you  get  that?" 

"Why,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  others,  "we  were 
poking  around  down  there  under  the  bank,  and  we 
happened  to  spy  a  nigger  cabin  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  hid  in  among  the  willers,  where  nobody 
could  see  it.  We  thought  there  might  be  something 
over  there,  so  we  waded  across.  There  wasn't  any 
thing  to  speak  of  in  the  cabin,  but  we  found  this  pig 
in  the  pen.  Jim  bayoneted  it,  and  then  we  wrapped 
it  up  in  our  blanket,  as  if  we  wuz  taking  a  boy  back 
to  the  Surgeon's,  and  fetched  it  along.  We  couldn't 
Ve  got  a  hundred  yards  through  that  crowd  if  they'd 
dreamed  what  we  had.  Jerusalem,  but  it  was  heavy, 
though.  We  thought  that  pig  weighed  a  thousand 
pounds  before  we  got  here." 

"Bully  boys,"  said  the  others  gleefully.  "We'll 
have  enough  to  eat,  no  matter  how  many  wagons  the 
rebels  burn.  I  always  enjoyed  a  dinner  of  fresh 
pork  more  on  New  Year's  Day  than  any  other  time.'.' 

Si  turned  and  gave  Shorty  a  wink  that  conveyed 
more  to  that  observant  individual  than  a  long  tele 
gram  would  have  done.  He  winked  back  approv 
ingly,  brought  up  his  gun  to  a  severely  regulation 
"carry  arms,"  and  he  and  Si  stepped  briskly  through 
the  brush  to  the  startled  squad. 

"Here,"  said  Si,  with  official  severity;  "you  infer 
nal  stragglers,  what  regiments  do  you  belong  to? 
Sneaking  out  here,  are  you,  and  stealin'  hogs  instead 
of  being  with  your  companies.  Wrap  that  pig  up 


100  SI  KLEGG. 

again,  pick  it  up,  and  come  along  with  us  to  Head 
quarters." 

For  a  minute  it  looked  as  if  the  men  would  fight. 
But  Si  had  guessed  rightly;  they  were  stragglers, 
and  had  the  cowardice  of  guilty  consciences.  They 
saw  the  chevrons  on  Si's  arms,  and  his  positive,  com 
manding  air  finished  them.  They  groaned,  wrapped 
up  the  pig  again,  and  Si  mercifully  made  the  two 
who  had  waited  by  the  fire  carry  the  heaviest  part. 

Si  started  them  back  toward  the  200th  Ind.,  and  he 
and  Shorty  walked  along  close  to  them,  maintaining 
a  proper  provost-guard-likc  severity  of  countenance 
and  carriage. 

The  men  began  to  try  to  beg  off,  and  make  ad 
vances  on  the  basis  of  sharing  the  pork.  But  Si  and 
Shorty's  official  integrity  was  incorruptible. 

"Shut  up  and  go  on,"  they  would  reply  to  every 
proposition.  "We  ain't  that  kind  of  soldiers.  Our 
duty's  to  take  you  to  Headquarters,  and  to  Head 
quarters  you  are  going." 

They  threaded  through  the  crowds  for  some  time, 
and  as  they  were  at  last  nearing  the  regiment  a  bat 
tery  of  artillery  went  by  at  as  near  a  trot  as  it  could 
get  out  of  the  weary  horses  in  that  deep  mire.  The 
squad  took  advantage  of  the  confusion  to  drop  their 
burden  and  scurry  out  of  sight  in  the  throng. 

"All  right;  let  'em  go,"  grinned  Si.  "I  wuz  jest 
wonderin'  how  we'd  get  rid  o'  'em.  I'd  thought  o' 
takin'  them  into  the  regiment  and  then  givin'  them 
a  chunk  o'  their  pork,  but  then  I'd  get  mad  at  the 
way  they  talked  about  the  200th  Ind.  last  night,  and 
want  to  stop  and  lick  'em.  It's  better  as  it  is.  We 
need  all  that  pig  for  the  boys." 


A   GLOOMY   NEW   YEAR'S   DAY.  101 

Si  and  Shorty  picked  up  the  bundle  and  carried  it 
up  to  the  regiment.  When  they  unrolled  it  the  boys 
gave  such  lusty  cheers  that  the  rebels  beyond  the 
field  rushed  to  arms,  expecting  a  charge,  and  one  of 
our  impulsive  cannoneers  let  fly  a  shell  at  them. 

Si  and  Shorty  cut  off  one  ham  for  themselves  and 
their  particular  cronies,  carried  the  other  ham,  with 
their  compliments,  to  the  Colonel,  and  let  the  rest 
be  divided  up  among  the  regiment. 

One  of  their  chums  was  lucky  enough  to  have 
saved  a  tin  box  of  salt,  and  after  they  had  toasted 
and  devoured  large  slices  of  the  fresh  ham  they 
began  to  feel  like  new  men,  and  be  anxious  for  some 
thing  farther  to  happen. 

But  the  gloomy,  anxious  day  dragged  its  slow 
length  along  with  nothing  more  momentous  than 
fitful  bursts  of  bickering,  spiteful  firing,  breaking 
out  from  time  to  time  on  different  parts  of  the  long 
line,  where  the  men's  nerves  got  wrought  up  to  the 
point  where  they  had  to  do  something  to  get  the  re 
lief  of  action. 

Away  out  in  front  of  the  regiment  ran  a  little 
creek,  skirting  the  hill  on  which  the  rebels  were 
massed.  In  the  field  between  the  hill  and  the  creek 
was  one  of  our  wagons,  which  had  mired  there  and 
been  abandoned  by  the  driver  in  the  stampede  of  the 
day  before.  It  seemed  out  of  easy  rifle-shot  of  the 
rebels  on  the  hill. 

Si  had  been  watching  it  for  some  time.  At  length 
he  said : 

"Shorty,  I  believe  that  wagon's  loaded  with  hard 
tack." 

"It's  certainly  a  Commissary  wagon,"  said  Shorty, 
after  studying  it  a  little. 


102  SI  KLEGG. 

"Yes,  I'm  sure  that  it's  one  o'  them  wagons  we  was 
guardin',  and  I  recollect  it  was  loaded  with  hard 
tack." 

The  mere  mention  of  the  much-abused  crackers 
made  both  their  mouths  water. 

"Seems  to  me  I  recognize  the  wagon,  too,"  said 
Shorty. 

"Shorty,  it'd  be  a  great  thing  if  we  could  sneak 
along  up  the  creek,  behind  them  bushes,  until  we 
come  opposite  the  wagon,  then  make,  a  rush  acrost 
the  field,  snatch  up  a  box  o'  hardtack  apiece,  and  then 
run  back.  We'd  get  enough  to  give  each  o'  the  boys 
a  cracker  apiece.  The  wagon'd  shelter  us  comin' 
and  goin',  and  we  wouldn't  get  a  shot." 

"It  might  be,"  said  Shorty,  with  visions  of  distrib 
uting  hardtack  to  the  hungry  boys  warping  his  judg 
ment.  "The  fellers  right  back  o'  the  wagon  couldn't 
shoot  to  any  advantage,  and  them  to  the  right  and 
left  are  too  fur  off.  If  you  say  so,  it's  a  go." 

"If  the  boys  could  only  have  one  hardtack  apiece," 
said  Si,  as  his  last  hesitation  vanished,  "they'd  feel 
ever  so  much  better,  and  be  in  so  much  better  shape 
for  a  fight.  Come  on,  let's  try  it." 

The  rest  overheard  their  plan,  and  began  to  watch 
them  with  eager  interest.  They  made  a  circle  to  the 
right,  got  into  the  cover  of  the  brush  of  the  creek, 
and  began  making  their  way  slowly  and  carefully  up 
to  a  point  opposite  the  wagon.  They  reached  this 
without  attracting  notice,  parted  the  bushes  in  front 
of  them  carefully,  and  took  a  good  survey  of  the 
wagon  and  the  hill  beyond. 

The  wagon  was  a  great  deal  nearer  the  hill  than 
had  appeared  to  be  the  case  from  where  the  regi- 


A   GLOOMY   NEW   YEAR'S   DAY.  103 

ment  lay,  and  even  where  they  stood  they  were  in 
easy  range  of  the  rebels  on  the  hill.  But  the  latter 
were  utterly  unsuspicious  of  them.  They  were 
crouching  down  around  fires,  with  their  guns 
stacked,  and  the  cannoneers  of  a  couple  of  guns  were 
at  some  distance  from  their  pieces,  under  a  brush 
shelter,  before  which  a  fire  smoldered  in  the  rain. 

"It's  awful  short  range,"  said  Si  dubiously.  "If 
they  were  lookin'  they'd  tear  us  and  the  wagon  all 
to  pieces.  But  our  boys  is  a-watchin'  us,  and  I 
don't  want  to  go  back  without  a  shy  at  it.  Them 
fellers  seem  so  busy  tryin'  to  keep  warm  that  we 
may  get  there  without  their  noticin'  us." 

"I  never  wanted  hardtack  so  much  in  my  life  as  I 
do  this  minute,"  said  Shorty.  "I  don't  care  to  live 
forever,  anyway.  Let's  chance  it." 

They  pulled  off  their  overcoats,  carefully  tied  up 
their  shoes,  shifted  around  so  as  to  be  completely 
behind  the  wagon,  and  then  started  on  a  rush 
through  the  mud. 

For  several  hundred  steps  nothing  happened,  and 
they  began  to  believe  that  they  would  reach  the 
wagon  unnoticed.  Then  a  few  shots  rang  out  over 
their  heads,  followed  a  minute  later  by  a  storm  of 
bullets  that  struck  in  the  mud  and  against  the  wagon. 
But  they  reached  the  wagon,  and  sat  down,  ex 
hausted,  on  the  tongue,  sidling  up  close  to  the  bed  to 
protect  them  from  the  bullets. 

Si  recovered  his  breath  first,  caught  hold  of  the 
front  board  and  raised  himself  up,  saw  the  boxes 
of  coveted  hardtack,  and  was  just  putting  his  hand 
on  one  of  them  when  a  shell  struck  the  rear  end 
and  tore  the  canvas  cover  off.  Si  sank  back  again 


104  SI  KLEGG. 

beside  Shorty,  when  another  shell  burst  under  the 
wagon,  and  filled  the  air  with  pieces  of  wheels,  bed, 
cracker-boxes  and  hardtack. 

"I  don't  want  no  hardtack ;  I  want  to  find  the  bank 
o'  that  crick/'  yelled  Shorty,  starting  back  on  the 
jump,  with  Si  just  six  inches  behind. 

The  bullets  spattered  in  the  mud  all  around  them 
as  they  ran,  but  they  reached  the  creek  bank  with 
out  being  struck.  They  were  in  such  .a  hurry  that 
they  did  not  stop  to  jump,  but  fell  headlong  into  the 
water. 

"Them  hardtack  wuz  spiled,  anyway,"  said  Shorty, 
as  they  fished  themselves  out,  found  their  overcoats, 
and  made  their  way  back  to  the  regiment. 

They  received  the  congratulations  of  their  com 
rades  on  their  escape,  and  someone  fished  out  all  the 
consolation  that  the  regiment  could  offer — a  couple 
of  brierwood  pipes  filled  with  fragrant  kinnikinnick. 
They  sat  down,  smoked  these,  and  tried  to  forget 
their  troubles. 

The  cheerless  night  drew  on.  No  fires  were  al 
lowed,  and  the  men  huddled  together  on  the  wet 
ground,  to  get  what  comfort  they  could  from  the 
warmth  of  each  other's  bodies. 

The  temper  of  the  rebels  became  nastier  as  the 
day  wore  away,  and  under  the  cover  of  the  dark 
ness  they  pushed  out  here  and  there  and  opened 
worrying  fires  on  the  Union  line.  Suddenly  a  bat 
tery  opened  up  on  the  200th  Ind.  from  a  bare  knoll 
in  front.  The  rebels  had  evidently  calculated  the 
range  during  daylight,  and  the  shells  struck  around 
them  in  the  most  annoying  way.  They  threw  up 
showers  of  mud,  scattered  the  groups,  and  kept 


A   GLOOMY   NEW   YEAR'S   DAY.  105 

everybody  nervous  and  alarmed.  The  regiment  stood 
this  for  some  time,  when  an  idea  occurred  to  Si  and 
Shorty.  They  went  up  to  the  Colonel  and  explained : 

"Colonel,  we've  studied  the  ground  out  there  purty 
carefully,  and  we  know  that  the  knoll  where  that 
battery  is  is  in  close  range  o'  that  crick  where  we 
went  up  this  afternoon.  If  you'll  let  a  few  of  us  go 
out  there  we  kin  stop  them  cannoneers  mighty 
soon." 

"Sure  of  that?"  said  the  Colonel  alertly. 

"Dead  sure." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  the  Colonel  promptly.  "I've 
been  thinking  of  the  same  thing.  I'll  take  the  whole 
regiment  out.  Put  yourselves  at  the  head,  and  lead 
the  way." 

The  regiment  was  only  too  eager  for  the  move 
ment.  It  marched  rapidly  after  Si  and  Shorty  up 
the  creek  bed,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  found 
itself  on  the  flank  of  the  obnoxious  battery,  which 
was  still  banging  away  into  the  line  which  the 
200th  Ind.  had  occupied.  It  was  scarcely  200  yards 
away,  and  the  men's  hearts  burned  with  a  fierce 
joy  at  the  prospect  of  vengeance.  With  whispered 
orders  the  Colonel  lined  up  the  regiment  carefully 
on  the  bank,  and  waited  until  the  battery  should 
fire  again,  to  make  sure  of  the  aim.  Every  man 
cocked  his  gun,  took  good  aim,  and  waited  for  the 
order.  They  could  distinctly  hear  the  orders  of  the 
battery  officers  directing  the  shelling.  Three  can 
non  were  fired  at  once,  and  as  their  fierce  lights 
flashed  out  the  Colonel  gave  the  order  to  fire.  A 
terrible  simoon  of  death  from  the  rifles  of  the  200th 


106  SI  KLEGG. 

Ind.  struck  down  everything  in  and  around  the  bat 
tery. 

"That  dog's  cured  o'  suckin'  aigs,"  said  Shorty,  as 
the  Colonel  ordered  the  regiment  to  about  face  and 
march  back. 

The  200th  Ind.  heard  no  more  from  that  battery 
that  night. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


VICTORY  AT  LAST — SI  REAPPEARS  AS  FROM  THE  GRAVE, 
WITH    AN    APPETITE    LIKE    PRAIRIE    FIRE. 

ON  THEIR  way  back  from  "settling  the  bat 
tery,"  Si  and  Shorty  each  broke  off  a  big 
armful  of  cedar  branches.  These  they  spread 
down  on  the  ground  when  the  regiment  resumed  its 
place  in  the  line-of-battle,  and  lay  down  on  them  to 
spend  the  rest  of  the  night  as  comfortably  as  pos 
sible.  The  fire  with  which  they  had  roasted  the  pig, 
'and  from  which  they  had  drawn  much  comfort  dur 
ing  the  day,  had  had  to  be  extinguished  when  dark 
ness  came  on.  But  it  had  dried  out  and  warmed  the 
ground  for  a  considerable  space  around,  and  on  this 
they  made  their  bed. 

"We  seem  to  play  in  fair  luck  right  along,  Shorty," 
said  the  hopeful  Si,  as  they  curled  up  on  the  boughs. 
"Most  of  the  boys  've  got  to  lay  down  in  a  foot  of 
mud." 

"Don't  get  to  crowin'  too  loud,"  grumbled  Shorty. 
"If  they  find  out  what  a  good  thing  we  have,  some 
Jigadier-Brindle'll  snatch  it  away  for  himself."  But 
Si  was  fast  asleep  before  Shorty  finished  speaking. 

Sometime  before  midnight  the  Orderly-Sergeant 
came  around,  and  after  vigorous  kicking  and  shak 
ing,  succeeded  in  waking  them. 

"Get  up,"  he  said,  "and  draw  some  rations.  The 
wagons've  got  in  from  Nashville." 


108  SI  KLEGG. 

"My  gracious!"  said  Si,  as  soon  as  he  was  wide 
enough  awake  to  understand  the  Orderly-Sergeant's 
words,  "is  it  possible  that  we're  going  to  have  plenty 
of  hardtack  and  pork  and  coffee  again?  Seems  to 
me  a  hundred  years  since  we  drew  a  full  ration." 

He  and  Shorty  jumped  up  and  ran  over  to  where 
the  Quartermaster-Sergeant  and  his  assistants  were 
dealing  out  a  handful  of  crackers  and  a  piece  of  pork 
to  each  man  as  he  came  up. 

"Mebbe  I  oughtn't  to  say  it,"  said  Si,  as  he 
munched  away,  taking  a  bite  first  off  the  crackers  in 
his  right  and  then  off  the  meat  in  his  left,  "but 
nothing  that  ever  mother  baked  tasted  quite  as  good 
as  this." 

"This  does  seem  to  be  a  specially  good  lot," 
assented  Shorty.  "Probably  a  wagon  load  that  they 
intended  for  the  officers  and  give  us  by  mistake.  Bet 
ter  eat  it  all  up  before  they  find  it  out." 

The  morning  of  Jan.  2,  1863,  dawned  bleak  and 
chill,  but  this  at  least  brought  the  great  comfort  that 
the  dreary  rain  was  at  last  over.  The  sharp  air 
was  bracing,  and  put  new  life  and  hope  into  the 
hearts  of  the  Union  soldiers.  Many  wagons  had 
been  gotten  up  during  the  night,  bringing  food  and 
ammunition  for  all.  Soon  after  daylight  cheerful 
fires  were  blazing  everywhere,  and  the  morning  air 
was  laden  with  the  appetizing  fragrance  of  boiling 
coffee  and  broiling  meat.  The  sun  began  to  rise 
over  Murfreesboro'  and  the  rebel  camps,  giving 
promise  of  a  bright,  invigorating  day. 

"I  hope  this  thing'll  be  brought  to  a  focus  to-day, 
and  the  question  settled  as  to  who  shall  occupy  this 
piece  of  real  estate,"  said  Shorty,  as  he  and  Si  fin- 


VICTORY   AT   LAST.  109 

ished  a  generous  breakfast,  filled  their  boxes  and 
pockets  with  cartridges,  and  began  knocking  the 
dried  mud  off  their  clothes  and  rubbing  the  rust  from 
their  guns.  "I  want  them  gents  in  brown  clothes 
to  clear  out  and  leave.  It  frets  me  to  see  them 
hangin'  'round.  They're  bad  neighbors." 

"I  hope,"  said  Si,  carefully  picking  out  the  tube 
of  his  gun  with  a  pin,  "we  won't  put  in  to-day  as 
we  did  yesterday — layin'  'round  making  faces  an' 
shakin'  our  fists  at  one  another.  Let's  have  the 
thing  out  at  once." 

Evidently  the  rebels  were  of  the  same  frame  of 
mind.  They  saluted  the  dawn  with  a  noisy  fusillade 
that  ran  along  the  miles  of  winding  line.  It  was 
spiteful,  crashing  and  persistent,  but  as  the  Union 
lines  lay  beyond  good  musket  range  and  the  rebels 
showed  no  disposition  to  advance  across  the  fields 
and  come  to  close  quarters,  the  noise  was  quite  out 
of  proportion  to  the  harm  done. 

The  two  rebel  batteries  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river  opened  up  a  terrific  fire  upon  one  of  our  bat 
teries,  and  the  air  seemed  torn  to  shreds  by  the 
storm  of  howling  missiles. 

The  200th  Ind.  was  too  far  away  to  have  more  than 
a  spectacular  interest  in  this  tempestuous  episode. 
They  stood  around  their  gun-stacks  and  watched  and 
listened  while  the  hours  passed  in  ineffective  noise, 
and  wondered  when  the  crisis  of  action  was  going 
to  arrive. 

"They  seem  to  have  lost  their  appetite  for  close 
acquaintance  with  the  200th  Ind.,"  remarked  Shorty. 
"They  found  that  Jordan  was  a  hard  road  to  travel 
whenever  they  came  across  the  fields  at  us,  and  are 


HO  SI  KLEGG. 

tryin'  to  scare  us  by  makin'  a  racket.  I  think  we 
kin  stand  it  as  long  as  their  powder  kin.  But  I'm 
gittin'  hungry  agin.  Let's  have  somethin'  to  eat." 

"Good  gracious,  it  is  noon,"  answered  Si,  looking 
up  at  the  sun.  "I  believe  I  do  want  some  dinner." 

They  had  scarcely  finished  dinner-eating  when  the 
200th  Ind.  was  ordered  to  move  over  toward  Stone 
River.  It  halted  on  a  little  rise  of  ground  on  the 
bank,  which  commanded  an  extensive  view  on  both 
sides  of  the  river.  There  was  a  portentous  flow  in 
the  great,  dark-blue  sea  of  men.  The  billows,  crested 
with  shining  steel,  were  rolling  eastward  toward  the 
river. 

"Something's  goin'  to  happen;  meetin's  about  to 
break  up;  school's  goin'  to  let  out,"  said  Shorty 
eagerly.  "Isn't  it  a  grand  sight." 

"Gracious  me!"  said  Si,  devouring  the  spectacle 
with  his  eyes.  "How  I  wish  that  father  and  mother 
and  sister  could  see  all  this.  It's  worth  going  through 
a  great  deal  to  see  this." 

It  was  by  far  the  most  imposing  spectacle  they 
had  yet  seen.  The  whole  Army  of  the  Cumber 
land  was  crowded  into  the  narrow  space  between  the 
Nashville  Pike  and  Stone  River.  Its  compact  regi 
ments,  brigades,  and  divisions  showed  none  of  the 
tearing  and  mangling  they  had  endured,  but  stood  or 
moved  in  well-dressed  ranks  that  seemed  the  embodi 
ment  of  mighty  purpose  and  resistless  force. 

Around  its  grand  array,  a  half  mile  away,  lay  the 
somber,  portentous  line  of  brown-clad  men.  Beyond 
them  rose  the  steeples  and  roofs  of  the  sleepy  old 
town  of  Murfreesboro',  with  crowds  of  men  and 
women  occupying  every  point  of  vantage,  to  witness 
the  renewal  of  the  awful  battle. 


VICTORY    AT   LAST.  Ill 

It  was  now  long  past  noon.  The  bright  sun  had 
long  ago  scattered  the  chill  mists  of  the  morning,  and 
radiated  warmth  and  light  over  the  dun  landscape. 
Even  the  somber  cedars  lost  some  of  the  funereal 
gloom  they  wore  when  the  skies  were  lowering. 

"There  go  two  brigades  across  the  river,"  said  Si. 
"We're  goin'  to  try  to  turn  their  right." 

They  saw  a  long  line  of  men  file  down  the  river 
bank,  cross,  and  go  into  line  on  the  high  ground  be 
yond.  Their  appearance  seemed  to  stir  the  brown 
mass  lying  on  the  hights  a  mile  in  front  of  them  to 
action.  The  rebels  began  swarming  out  of  their 
works  and  moving  forward  into  the  woods. 

Presently  a  thin  line  of  men  in  butternut-colored 
clothes  ran  forward  to  a  fence  in  front,  and  began 
throwing  it  down.  Behind  them  came  three  long, 
brown  lines,  extending  from  near  the  river  to  the 
woods  far  away  to  the  left.  Batteries  galloped  in 
the  intervals  to  knolls,  on  which  they  unlimbered  and 
opened  fire. 

It  was  an  overpowering  mass  of  men  for  the  two 
little  brigades  to  resist.  Si's  heart  almost  stood  still 
as  he  saw  the  inequality  of  the  contest. 

"Why  don't  they  send  us  over  there  to  help  those 
men?"  he  anxiously  asked.  "They  can't  stand  up 
against  that  awful  crowd." 

"Just  wait,"  said  Shorty  hopefully.  "Old  Rosy 
knows  what  he's  doin'.  He's  got  enough  here  for 
the  business." 

The  artillery  all  along  the  line  burst  out  in  tor 
rents  of  shells,  but  Si's  eyes  were  glued  on  the  two 
little  brigades.  He  saw  the  white  spurts  from  the 
skirmishers'  rifles,  and  men  drop  among  the  rebels, 


112  SI  KLEGG. 

who  yet  moved  slowly  forward,  like  some  all-engulf 
ing  torrent.  The  skirmishers  ran  back  to  the  main 
line,  and  along  its  front  sped  a  burst  of  smoke  as 
each  regiment  fired  by  volley.  The  foremost  rebel 
line  quivered  a  little,  but  moved  steadily  on. 

Then  a  cloud  of  white  smoke  hid  both  Union  and 
rebel  lines,  and  from  it  came  the  sound  as  of  thou 
sands  of  carpenters  hammering  away  industriously 
at  nails. 

Presently  Si  was  agonized  to  see  a  fringe  of  blue 
break  back  from  the  bank  of  smoke,  and  run  rapidly 
to  the  rear.  They  were  followed  by  regiments  falling 
back  slowly,  in  order,  and  turning  at  the  word  of 
command  to  deliver  volleys  in  the  faces  of  their  yell 
ing  pursuers. 

Si  looked  at  his  Colonel,  and  saw  him  anxiously 
watching  the  brigade  commander  for  orders  to  rush 
across  the  river  to  the  assistance  of  the  two  brigades. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  whirl  in  front.  A  battery  gal 
loped  up,  the  drivers  lashing  the  horses,  the  can 
noneers  sitting  stolidly  on  the  limbers  with  their 
arms  folded.  It  swept  by  to  a  knoll  in  front  and  to 
the  right,  which  commanded  the  other  side  of  the 
river.  Instantly  the  gunners  sprang  to  the  ground, 
the  cannon  were  tossed  about  as  if  they  were  play 
things,  and  before  Si  could  fairly  wink  he  saw  the 
guns  lined  up  on  the  bank,  the  drivers  standing  by 
the  horses'  heads,  and  the  cannons  belching  savagely 
into  the  flanks  of  the  horde  of  rebels. 

Then  another  battery  swept  up  alongside  the  first, 
and  another,  until  58  guns  crowned  the  high  banks 
and  thundered  until  the  earth  shook  as  with  the  ague. 
A  deluge  of  iron  swept  the  fields  where  the  mighty 


VICTORY    AT    LAST. 


113 


host  of  rebels  were  advancing.  Tops  were  torn  out 
of  trees  and  fell  with  a  crash,  .fence-rails  and  limbs 
of  oak  went  madly  flying  through  the  air,  regiments 
and  brigades  disappeared  before  the  awful  blast. 


SI  KLEGG  FELL  WITHOUT  A  GROAN/ 


For  a  few  minutes  Si  and  Shorty  stood  appalled  at 
the  deafening  crash  and  the  shocking  destruction. 
Then  they  saw  the  rebels  reel  and  fly  before  the 
tornado  of  death. 

5 


114  SI  KLEGG. 

A  great  shout  arose  from  thousands  of  excited  men 
standing  near.  Regiments  and  brigades  started  as 
with  one  impulse  to  rush  across  the  river  and  pursue 
the"  flying  enemy.  The  200th  Ind.  was  one  of  these. 
No  one  heard  any  orders  from  the  officers.  The  men 
caught  the  contagion  of  victory  and  rushed  forward, 
sweeping  with  them  the  lately-defeated  brigades, 
hurrying  over  the  wreckage  of  the  cannon-fire,  over 
the  thickly-strewn  dead  and  wounded,  and  gather 
ing  in  prisoners,  flags  and  cannon. 

They  went  on  so,  nearly  to  the  breastworks  be 
hind  which  the  rebels  were  seeking  shelter. 

Si  and  Shorty  were  among  the  foremost.  A  few 
hundred  yards  from  the  rebel  works  Si  fell  to  the 
ground  without  a  groan.  Shorty  saw  him,  and  ran 
to  him.  The  side  of  his  head  was  covered  with  blood, 
and  he  was  motionless. 

"Stone  dead — bullet  plum  through  his  head,"  said 
the  agonized  Shorty.  But  there  was  no  time  for 
mourning  the  fallen.  The  pursuit  was  still  hot,  and 
Shorty's  duty  was  in  front.  He  ran  ahead  until  the 
Colonel  halted  the  regiment.  Fresh  rebels  were  lining 
up  in  the  breastworks  and  threatening  a  return 
charge  which  would  be  disastrous.  The  Colonel 
hastily  re-formed  the  regiment  to  meet  this,  and 
slowly  withdrew  it  in  good  order  to  resist  any  coun 
ter-attack.  After  marching  a  mile  or  more  the  regi 
ment  halted  and  went  into  bivouac.  The  rejoicing 
men  started  great  fires  and  set  about  getting  supper. 
But  the  saddened  Shorty  had  no  heart  for  rejoicing 
over  the  victory,  or  for  supper.  He  drew  off  from 
the  rest,  sat  down  at  the  roots  of  an  oak,  wrapped 
the  cape  of  his  overcoat  about  his  face,  and  aban- 


VICTORY   AT   LAST.  115 

doned  himself  to  his  bitter  grief.  Earth  had  no  more 
joy  for  him.  He  wished  he  had  been  shot  at  the 
same  time  his  partner  was.  He  could  think  of 
nothing  but  that  poor  boy  lying  there  dead  and 
motionless  on  the  cold  ground.  He  felt  that  he  could 
never  think  of  anything  else,  and  the  sooner  he  was 
shot  the  better  it  would  be. 

The  other  boys  respected  his  grief  At  first  they 
tried  to  tempt  him  to  eat  something  and  drink  some 
coffee,  but  Shorty  would  not  listen  to  them,  and  they 
drew  away,  that  he  might  be  alone. 

He  sat  thus  for  some  hours.  The  loss  of  their 
sturdy  Corporal  saddened  the  whole  company,  and  as 
they  sat  around  their  fires  after  supper  they  ex 
tolled  his  good  traits,  recounted  his  exploits,  and 
easily  made  him  out  the  best  soldier  in  the  regiment. 

Presently  the  fifes  and  rums  played  tattoo,  and  the 
boys  began  preparations  for  turning  in. 

Shorty  had  become  nearly  frozen  sitting  there  mo 
tionless,  and  he  got  up  and  went  to  the  fire  to  thaw 
out.  He  had  just  picked  up  a  rail  to  lay  it  on  the  fire 
in  better  shape,  when  he  heard  a  weak  voice  in 
quiring  : 

"Does  anybody  know  where  the  200th  Ind.  is?" 

Shorty  dropped  the  rail  as  if  he  had  been  shot, 
and  rushed  in  the  direction  of  the  voice.  In  an  in 
stant  he  came  back  almost  carrying  Si  Klegg. 

There  was  a  hubbub  around  the  fire  that  kept 
everybody  from  paying  the  least  attention  to  "taps." 

"Yes,  it's  really  me,"  said  Si,  responding  as  well  as 
he  was  able  to  the  hearty  handshakings.  "And  I 
ain't  no  ghost,  neither.  I've  got  an  appetite  on  me 
like  a  prairie  fire,  and  if  you  fellers  are  really  glad 


116  SI  KLEGG. 

to  see  me  you'll  hustle  up  here  all  the  grub  in  the 
Commissary  Department.  I  can  eat  every  mite  of  it. 
I  was  hit  by  a  spent  ball  and  knocked  senseless.  But 
I  ain't  going  to  tell  you  any  more  till  I  get  something 
to  eat." 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  VICTORIOUS  ARMY — SI  AND  SHORTY  FINALLY 
SUCCEED  IN  GETTING  OUT  OF  THE  WET. 

r  r^  HE  BOYS  were  so  glad  to  see  Si  back  again 

|  alive  that  they  robbed  themselves  of  any 
choice  morsel  of  food  they  might  have  saved 
for  to-morrow's  delectation. 

"Here,  Si,"  said  one,  "is  a  nice  knuckle-bone  o' 
ham,  that  I  pulled  back  there  at  the  General's  when 
his  cook  returned  to  the  tent  for  something.  You 
ought  t've  heard  the  nigger  cussing  as  I  walked 
away,  but  he  couldn't  recognize  the  back  o'  my  head, 
nor  see  under  my  overcoat.  Me  and  my  chum  've  had1 
supper  off  it,  and  we  wuz  saving  the  rest  for  break 
fast,  but  I'll  brile  it  for  you." 

"Some  of  them  Kentucky  fellers,"  said  another, 
"found  a  sheep  in  the  briars  and  killed  it.  I  traded 
'em  my  silk  handkerchief  for  a  hunk  o'  the  meat. 
I'm  going  to  cook  a  slice  for  you,  Si." 

"Si,  I'll  bile  some  coffee  for  you,"  said  a  third. 

"I'll  toast  some  crackers  for  you,"  added  a  fourth. 

Shorty  roused.  He  felt  so  much  gladder  than  any 
of  them,  that  he  was  jealous  of  their  attentions. 

"See  here,  you  fellers,"  said  he,  "this  is  my  partner, 
an'  I'm  able  to  take  care  of  him.  I'll  bile  all  the 
coffee  an'  toast  all  the  crackers  he  kin  eat;  though 
I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Jim,  for  your  ham,  and  to 


118 


SI  KLEGG. 


you,  Billy,  for  your  mutton,  though  I'm  afraid  it'll 
taste  too  much  of  the  wool  for  a  wounded  man." 

"Don't  mind  about  that,"  said  Si;  "I'm  hungry 
enough  to  eat  the  wool  on  the  sheep's  back,  even. 


SHORTY  THINKS  SI  DOES  NOT  LOOK  LIKE  A  GHOST. 

Hand  over  your  mutton,  Billy,  and  thankee  for  it. 

My  appetite's  not  delicate,  I  can  tell  you.    Woolly 

mutton  won't  faze  it  more'n  bark  would  a  buzz-saw." 

Si  didn't  over-state  the  case.     He  ate  everything 


THE    VICTORIOUS    ARMY.  119 

that  was  cooked  and  offered  him,  until  he  declared 
that  he  was  so  full  he  "could  touch  it  with  his  finger." 

"I'm  sure  you're  not  a  ghost,  from  the  way  you 
eat,"  said  Shorty,  who  was  beginning  to  recover  his 
propensity  for  sarcasm.  "If  ghosts  et  like  you  there'd 
have  to  be  a  steam  bakery  an'  a  pork  packery  run 
in  connection  with  every  graveyard." 

"And  I'd  never  take  no  ghost  to  board,"  said  Billy. 

"Come,  Si,"  said  Jimmy  Barlow,  filling  his  briar- 
wood  pipe  with  kinnikinnick,  lighting  it  from  the 
fire,  taking  a  few  puffs  to  start  it,  and  handing  it  to 
Si,  "tell  us  just  what  happened  to  you.  We're  dyin' 
to  hear." 

"Well,"  said  Si,  settling  down  with  the  pipe  into 
a  comfortable  position,  "I  don't  know  what  happened. 
Last  thing  I  knowed  I  wuz  runnin'  ahead  on  Shorty's 
left,  loadin'  my  gun,  an'  tryin'  to  keep  up  with  the 
Colonel's  hoss.  Next  thing  I  knowed  I  wuz  wakin' 
up  at  the  foot  of  a  black-oak.  Everything  was  quiet 
around  me,  except  the  yellin'  of  two  or  three  wounded 
men  a  little  ways  off.  At  first  I  thought  a  cannon- 
ball' d  knocked  my  whole  head  off.  Then  it  occurred 
to  me  that  if  my  head  was  knocked  off  I  couldn't  hear 
nor  see" 

"Nor  think,  even,"  injected  Shorty. 

"No,  nor  think,  even.  For  what'd  you  think  with?" 

"I  know  some  fellers  that  seem  to  think  with  their 
feet,  and  that  blamed  awkwardly,"  mused  Shorty. 

"I  kept  on  wakin'  up,"  continued  Si.  "At  first  I 
thought  I  had  no  head  at  all,  an'  then  it  seemed  to 
me  I  was  all  head,  it  hurt  so  awfully.  I  couldn't  move 
hand  nor  foot.  Then  I  thought  mebbe  only  half  my 
head  was  shot  away,  an'  the  rest  was  aching  for  all. 


120  SI  KLEGG. 

I  tried  shuttin'  one  eye  an'  then  the  other,  an'  found 
I'd  at  least  both  eyes  left.  I  moved  my  head  a  little, 
an'  found  that  the  back  part  was  still  there,  for  a 
bump  on  the  roots  of  the  oak  hurt  it. 

"By-and-by  the  numbness  began  to  go  out  of  my 
head  an'  arm,  but  I  was  afraid  to  put  my  hand  up  to 
my  head,  for  I  was  afraid  to  find  out  how  much  was 
gone.  Nearly  the  whole  of  the  left  side  must  be  gone, 
an'  all  my  schoolin'  scattered  over  the  ground.  I  lay 
there  thinkin'  it  all  over — how  awful  I'd  look  when 
you  fellers  came  to  find  me  and  bury  me,  an'  how  you 
wouldn't  dare  tell  the  folks  at  home  about  it. 

"Finally,  I  got  plum  desperate.  I  didn't  seem  to 
be  dyin',  but  to  be  gettin'  better  every  minute.  I 
determined  to  find  out  just  howr  much  of  my  head 
was  really  gone.  I  put  up  my  hand,  timid-like,  an' 
felt  my  forehead.  It  was  all  there.  I  passed  my  hand 
back  over  my  hair  an'  the  whole  back  of  my  head  was 
there.  I  felt  around  carefully,  an'  there  was  the 
whole  side  of  my  head,  only  a  little  wet  where  I'd  got 
a  spent  ball.  Then  I  got  mad  an'  I  jumped  up.  Think 
of  my  makin'  all  that  fuss  over  a  little  peck  that 
might  have  been  made  by  a  brick-bat.  I  started  out 
to  hunt  you  fellers,  an'  here  I  am." 

"Yes,  but  you  wouldn't  've  bin  here,"  philosophized 
Shorty,  examining  the  wound,  "if  the  feller  that 
fired  that  shot'd  given  his  gun  a  little  hunch.  If 
that  bullet'd  went  a  half-inch  deeper,  you'd  be  up 
among  the  stars  a  bow-legged  Wabash  angel." 

"Well,  we've  licked  the  stuffin'  out  of  'em  at  last, 
haven't  we?"  asked  Si. 

"Well,  I  should  say  we  had,"  replied  Shorty  with 
an  impressive  whistle.  "I  thought  the  artillery  would 


THE    VICTORIOUS    ARMY.  121 

tear  the  foundations  out  of  the  whole  State  of  Ten 
nessee,  the  way  it  let  into  them.  There  won't  ba 
more  crashin'  an'  bangin'  when  the  world  breaks  up. 
I'd  a-bin  willin'  to  serve  100  years  just  to  see  that 
sight.  Lord,  what  a  chance  the  cannoneers  had.  First 
time  I  ever  wanted  to  be  in  the  artillery.  The  way 
they  slung  whole  blacksmith  shops  over  into  them 
woods,  an'  smashed  down  trees,  and  wiped  out  whole 
brigades  at  a  clip,  filled  my  soul  with  joy." 

"We  must  go  over  there  in  the  mornin'  an'  take  a 
look  at  the  place,"  said  Si  drowsily.  "It  will  be 
good  to  remember  alongside  o'  the  way  they  slapped 
it  to  us  the  first  day." 

Si  and  Shorty  woke  up  the  next  morning  to  find 
the  chill  rain  pouring  down  as  if  the  country  had 
been  suffering  from  a  year's  drouth,  and  the  rain 
was  going  to  make  up  for  it  in  one  forenoon. 

"Lord  have  mercy,"  said  the  disgusted  Shorty,  as 
he  fell  into  line  for  roll-call.  "Another  seepin', 
soppin',  sloshin',  spatterin'  day.  Only  had  14  of  'em 
this  week  so  far.  Should  think  the  geese  'd  carry 
umbrellas,  an'  the  cows  wear  overshoes  in  this,  land 
of  eternal  drizzle.  If  I  ever  get  home  they'll  have 
to  run  me  through  a  brick-kiln  to  dry  me  out." 

In  spite  of  the  down-pour  the  army  was  forming 
up  rapidly  to  resume  the  advance  upon  Murfrees- 
boro',  and  over  the  ground  on  the  left,  that  had 
proved  so  disastrous  to  the  rebels  the  day  before. 

While  the  200th  Ind.  was  getting  ready  to  fall  in, 
the  sick-call  sounded,  and  the  Orderly-Sergeant  re 
marked  to  Si: 

"Fall  into  this  squad,  Corporal  Klegg." 

"What  for?"  asked  Si,  looking  askance  at  the 
squad. 


122  SI  KLEGG. 

"To  go  to  the  Surgeon's  tent,"  answered  the  Or 
derly-Sergeant.  "This  is  the  sick  squad." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  answered  Si;  "an'  that's 
the  reason  I  ain't  goin'  to  join  it." 

"But  your  head's  bigger'n  a  bushel,  Si,"  remon 
strated  the  Sergeant.  "Better  let  the  doctor  see  it." 

"I  don't  want  none  of  his  bluemass  or  quinine," 
persisted  Si.  "That's  all  he  ever  gives  for  anything. 
The  swellin'  '11  come  out  o'  my  head  in  time,  same 
as  it  does  out  o'  other  people's." 

"Corporal,  I'll  excuse  you  from  duty  to-day,"  said 
the  Captain  kindly.  "I  really  think  you  ought  to  go 
to  the  Surgeon." 

"If  you  don't  mind,  Captain,"  said  Si,  saluting, 
"I'll  stay  with  the  boys.  I  want  to  see  this  thing 
to  the  end.  My  head  won't  hurt  me  half  so  bad  as  if 
I  was  back  gruntin'  'round  in  the  hospital." 

"Probably  you  are  right,"  said  the  Captain.  "Come 
along,  then." 

Willing  and  brave  as  the  men  were,  the  move 
ments  were  tiresomely  slow  and  laggard.  The  week 
of  marching  and  lying  unsheltered  in  the  rain,  of 
terrific  fighting,  and  of  awful  anxiety  had  brought 
about  mental  and  physical  exhaustion.  The  men  were 
utterly  worn  out  in  body  and  mind.  This  is  usually 
the  case  in  every  great  battle.  Both  sides  struggle 
with  all  their  mental  and  physical  powers,  until  both 
are  worn  out.  The  one  that  can  make  just  a  little 
more  effort  than  the  other  wins  the  victory.  This 
was  emphatically  so  in  the  battle  of  Stone  River.  The 
rebels  had  exhausted  themselves,  even,  more  in  their 
assaults  than  the  Union  men  had  in  repelling  them. 

When,  therefore,  the  long  line  of  blue  labored 


THE    VICTORIOUS    ARMY.  123 

slowly  through  the  mud  and  the  drenching  rain  up 
the  gentle  slopes  on  the  farther  side  of  Stone  River, 
the  rebels  sullenly  gave  ground  before  them.  At  last 
a  point  was  reached  which  commanded  a  view  of 
Murfreesboro'  and  the  rebel  position.  The  rebels 
were  seen  to  be  in  retreat,  and  the  exhausted  Army 
of  the  Cumberland  was  mighty  glad  to  have  them  go. 

As  soon  as  it  was  certain  that  the  enemy  was  really 
abandoning  the  bitterly-contested  field,  an  inexpres 
sible  weariness  overwhelmed  everybody.  The  200th 
Ind.  could  scarcely  drag  one  foot  after  another  as  it 
moved  back  to  find  a  suitable  camping-ground. 

Si  and  Shorty  crawled  into  a  cedar  thicket,  broke 
down  some  brush  for  a  bed,  laid  a  pole  in  two 
crotches,  leaned  some  brush  against  it  to  make  a  par 
tial  shelter,  built  a  fire,  and  sat  down. 

"I  declare,  I  never  knew  what  being  tuckered  out 
was  before,"  said  Si.  "And  it's  come  to  me  all  of  a 
sudden.  This  morning  I  felt  as  if  I  could  do  great 
things,  but  the  minute  I  found  that  them  rebels  was 
really  going,  my  legs  begun  to  sink  under  me." 

"Same  way  with  me,"  accorded  Shorty.  "Don't  be 
lieve  I've  got  strength  enough  left  to  pull  a  settin' 
hen  offen  her  nest.  But  we  can't  be  drowned  out 
this  way.  We  must  fix  up  some  better  shelter." 

"The  Colonel  says  there's  a  wagon-load  o'  rations 
on  the  way  here,"  said  Si,  sinking  wearily  down  on 
the  ground  by  the  fire,  and  putting  out  his  hands  over 
the  feeble  blaze.  "Let's  wait  till  we  git  something 
to  eat.  Mebbe  we'll  feel  more  like  work  after  we've 
eaten  something." 

"Si  Klegg,"  said  Shorty  sternly,  but  settling  down 
himself  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  "I  never  knowed 


124  SI  KLEGG. 

you  to  flop  down  before.  You've  always  bin,  if  any 
thing,  forwarder  than  me.  I  was  in  hopes  now  that 
you'd  take  me  by  the  back  o'  the  neck  and  try  to 
shake  some  o'  this  laziness  out  o'  me." 

"Wait  till  the  rations  come,"  repeated  Si  listlessly. 
"Mebbe  we'll  fell  livelier  then."  The  shelter  we've 
fixed  up'll  keep  out  the  coarsest  o'  the  rain,  anyway. 
Most  o'  the  boys  ain't  got  none." 

When  the  rations  arrived,  Si  and  Shorty  had 
energy  enough  to  draw,  cook  and  devour  an  immense 
supper.  Then  they  felt  more  tired  than  ever.  Shorty 
had  managed  to  tear  off  a  big  piece  of  the  wagon 
cover  while  he  was  showing  much  zeal  in  getting  the 
rations  distributed  quickly.  He  got  the  company's 
share  in  this,  and  helped  carry  it  to  the  company,  but 
never  for  a  minute  relaxed  his  hold  on  the  coveted 
canvas.  Then  he  took  it  back  to  his  fire.  Si  and 
he  spent  what  energy  they  had  left  in  making  a  toler 
able  tent  of  it,  by  stretching  it  over  their  shelter. 
They  tied  it  down  carefully,  to  keep  anybody  else 
from  stealing  it  off  them,  and  Shorty  took  the  addi 
tional  precaution  of  fastening  a  strip  of  it  around  his 
neck.  Then  they  crawled  in,  and  before  night  come 
on  they  were  sleeping  apparently  as  soundly  as  the 
Seven  of  Ephesus, 


CHAPTER  XI. 


WINTER  QUARTERS — THEY  BUILT  THEM  A  HOUSE  AND 
GOT  IN  OUT  OF  THE  RAIN. 

THE    NEXT    day— Sunday— after    the    battla 
dawned  as  clear,  bright  and  sparkling  as  only 
a  Winter's  day  can  dawn  in  Tennessee,  after 
a  fortnight  of  doleful  deluges.     Tennessee  Winter 
weather  is  like  the  famous  little  girl  with  the  curl 
right  down  in  the  middle  of  her  forehead,  who, 

"When  she  was  good,  she  was  very,  very  good, 
And  when  she  was  bad,  she  was  horrid." 

After  weeks  of  heart-saddening  down-pour  that 
threatened  to  drench  life  and  hope  out  of  every 
breathing  thing,  it  will  suddenly  beam  out  in  a 
day  so  crisp  and  bright  that  all  Nature  will  wear 
a  gladsome  smile  and  life  become  jocund. 

When  the  reveille  and  the  Orderly-Sergeant's  bro- 
gans  aroused  Si  and  Shorty  the  latter's  first  thought 
was  for  the  strip  of  canvas  which  he  had  secured  with 
so  much  trouble  from  the  wagon-cover,  and  intended 
to  cherish  for  future  emergencies.  He  felt  his  neck 
and  found  the  strip  that  he  had  tied  there,  but  that 
was  all  that  there  was  of  it.  A  sharp  knife  had  cut 
away  the  rest  so  deftly  that  he  had  not  felt  its  loss. 

Shorty's  boiler  got  very  hot  at  once,  and  he  began 


126 


SI  KLEGG. 


blowing  off  steam.  Somehow  he  had  taken  an  espe 
cial  fancy  to  that  piece  of  canvas,  and  his  wrath 
was  hot  against  the  man  who  had  stolen  it. 


SHORTY  RETALIATES. 

"Condemn  that  onery  thief,"  he  yelled.  "He  ought 
to  be  drummed  out  o'  camp,  with  his  head  shaved. 
A  man  that'll  steal  ought  to  be  hunted  down  and 


WINTER    QUARTERS.  127 

kicked  out  o'  the  army.    He's  not  fit  to  associate  with 
decent  men." 

"Why,  Shorty,"  said  Si,  amused  at  his  partner's 
heat,  "you  stole  that  yourself." 

"I  didn't  nothin'  o'  the  kind,"  snorted  Shorty, 
"and  don't  want  you  sayin'  so,  Mr.  Klegg,  if  you 
don't  want  to  git  into  trouble.  I  took  it  from  a 
teamster.  You  ought  to  know  it's  never  stealin'  to 
take  anything  from  a  teamster.  I'll  bet  it  was  some 
of  that  Toledo  regiment  that  stole  it.  Them  Maumee 
River  Muskrats  are  the  durndest  thieves  in  the  bri 
gade.  They'd  steal  the  salt  out  o'  your  hardtack  if 
you  didn't  watch  'em — not  because  they  wanted  the 
salt,  but  just  because  they  can't  help  stealin'.  They 
ought  to  be  fired  out  o'  the  brigade.  I'm  going  over 
to  their  camp  to  look  for  it,  and  if  I  find  it  I'll  wipe 
the  ground  up  with  the  feller  that  took  it.  'Taint 
so  much  the  value  of  the  thing  as  the  principle.  I 
hate  a  thief  above  all  things." 

Si  tried  to  calm  Shorty  and  dissuade  him  from 
going,  but  his  partner  was  determined,  and  Si  let 
him  go,  but  kept  an  eye  and  ear  open  for  develop 
ments. 

In  a  few  minutes  Shorty  returned,  with  jubilation 
in  his  face,  the  canvas  in  one  hand  and  a  nice  frying- 
pan  and  a  canteen  of  molasses  in  the  other. 

"Just  as  I  told  you,"  he  said  triumphantly.  "It  was 
some  o'  them  Maumee  River  Muskrats.  I  found 
them  asleep  in  a  bunch  o'  cedars,  with  our  nice  tent 
stretched  over  their  thievin'  carcasses.  They'd  been 
out  on  guard  or  scoutin',  and  come  in  after  we'd 
gone  to  sleep.  They  were  still  snorin'  away  when 
I  yanked  the  tent  off,  an'  picked  up  their  fryin'-pan 
an'  canteen  o'  molasses  to  remember  'em  by." 


128  SI  KLEGG. 

"I  thought  you  hated  a  thief,"  Si  started  to  say; 
but  real  comrades  soon  learn,  like  husband  and  wife, 
that  it  is  not  necessary  to  say  everything  that  rises 
to  their  lips.  Besides,  the  frying-pan  was  a  beauty, 
and  just  what  they  wanted. 

It  became  generally  understood  during  the  day 
that  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  would  remain 
around  Murfreesboro'  indefinitely — probably  until 
Spring — to  rest,  refit  and  prepare  for  another  cam 
paign.  Instructions  were  given  to  regimental  com 
manders  to  select  good  camping  ground  and  have 
their  men  erect  comfortable  Winter  quarters. 

The  200th  Ind.  moved  into  an  oak  grove,  on  a 
gentle  slope  toward  the  south,  and  set  about  mak 
ing  itself  thoroughly  at  home. 

Si  and  Shorty  were  prompt  to  improve  the  oppor 
tunity  to  house  themselves  comfortably. 

Si  had  now  been  long  enough  in  the  army  to  re 
gard  everything  that  was  not  held  down  by  a  man 
with  a  gun  and  bayonet  as  legitimate  capture.  He 
passed  where  one  of  the  Pioneer  Corps  had  laid 
down  his  ax  for  a  minute  to  help  on  some  other 
work.  That  minute  was  spent  by  Si  in  walking 
away  with  the  ax  hidden  under  his  long  overcoat. 
Those  long  overcoats,  like  charity,  covered  a  multi 
tude  of  sins. 

The  ax  was  not  sharp — no  army  ax  ever  was,  but 
Si's  and  Shorty's  muscles  were  vigorous  enough  to 
make  up  for  its  dullness.  In  a  little  while  they  had 
cut  down  and  trimmed  enough  oak  saplings  to  make 
a  pen  about  the  size  of  the  corn-crib  at  Si's  home. 
While  one  would  whack  away  with  the  ax  the  other 
would  carry  the  poles  and  build  up  the  pen.  By 


WINTER    QUARTERS.  129 

evening  they  had  got  this  higher  than  their  heads, 
and  had  to  stop  work  from  sheer  exhaustion. 

"I'll  declare,"  said  Si,  as  they  sat  down  to  eat 
supper  and  survey  their  work,  "if  father'd  ever 
made  me  do  half  as  much  work  in  one  day  as  I  have 
done  to-day  I  should  have  died  with  tiredness  and 
then  run  away  from  home.  It  does  seem  to  me  that 
every  day  we  try  a  new  way  o'  killing  ourselves." 

"Well,"  said  Shorty,  arresting  a  liberal  chunk  of 
fried  pork  on  the  way  to  his  capacious  grinders  to 
cast  an  admiring  glance  on  the  structure,  "it's  worth 
it  all.  It'll  just  be  the  finest  shebang  in  Tennessee 
when  we  git  it  finished.  I'm  only  afraid  we'll  make 
it  so  fine  that  Gen.  Rosecrans  or  the  Governor  of 
Tennessee  '11  come  down  and  take  it  away  for  him 
self.  That'd  just  be  our  luck." 

"Great  Scott !"  said  Si,  looking  at  it  with  a  groan ; 
"how  much  work  there  is  to  do  yet.  What  are  we 
goin'  to  do  for  a  roof?  Then,  we  must  cut  out  a 
place  for  a  door.  We'll  have  to  chink  between  all  the 
logs  with  mud  and  chunks;  and  we  ought  to  have  a 
fireplace." 

"I've  bin  thinkin'  of  all  them  things,  and  I've 
thunk  'em  out,"  said  Shorty  cheerfully.  "I've  bin 
thinkin'  while  you've  bin  workin'.  Do  you  know,  I 
believe  I  was  born  for  an  architect,  an'  I'll  go  into 
the  architect  business  after  the  war!  I've  got  a 
head  plumb  full  of  the  natural  stuff  for  the  business. 
It  growed  right  there.  All  I  need  is  some  more 
know-how  an'  makin'  plans  on  paper." 

"0,  you've  got  a  great  big  head,  Shorty,"  said  Si, 
admiringly,  "and  whatever  you  start  to  do  you  do 
splendid.  Nobody  knows  that  better'n  me.  But 
what's  your  idee  about  the  roof?" 


130  SI  KLEGG. 

"Why,  do  you  see  that  there  freight-car  over  there 
by  the  bridge"  (pointing  to  where  a  car  was  off  the 
track,  near  Stone  River),  "I've  bin  watchin'  that 
ever  since  we  begun  buildin',  for  fear  somebody 
else'd  drop  on  to  it.  The  roof  of  that  car  is  tin. 
We'll  jest  slip  down  there  with  an  ax  after  dark,  an' 
cut  off  enough  to  make  a  splendid  roof.  I  always 
wanted  a  tin-roofed  house.  Old  Jack  Wilson,  who 
lives  near  us,  had  a  tin  roof  on  his  barn,  an'  it  made 
his  daughters  so  proud  they  wouldn't  go  home  with 
me  from  meetin'.  You  kin  write  home  that  we  have 
a  new  house  with  a  tin  roof,  an'  it'll  help  your  sisters 
to  marry  better." 

"Shorty,  that  head  o'  your'n  gits  bigger  every  time 
I  look  at  it." 

Si  and  Shorty  had  the  extreme  quality  of  being 
able  to  forget  fatigue  when  there  was  something  to 
be  accomplished.  As  darkness  settled  down  they 
picked  up  the  ax  and  proceeded  across  the  fields  to 
the  freight-car. 

"There's  someone  in  there,"  said  Si,  as  they  came 
close  to  it.  They  reconnoitered  it  carefully.  Five 
or  six  men,  without  arms,  were  comfortably  en- 
sconed  inside  and  playing  cards  by  the  light  of  a 
fire  of  pitch-pine,  which  they  had  built  upon  some 
dirt  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  car. 

"They're  blamed  skulkers,"  said  Shorty,  after  a 
minute's  survey  of  the  interior.  "Don't  you  see  they 
hain't  got  their  guns  with  'em?  We  won't  mind 
'em." 

They  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  car,  measured  off 
about  half  of  it,  and  began  cutting  through  the  tin 
with  the  ax.  The  noise  alarmed  the  men  inside. 
They  jumped  out  on  the  ground,  and  called  up: 


WINTER    QUARTERS.  131 

"Here,  what're  you  fellers  doin'  up  there?  This 
is  our  car.  Let  it  alone." 

"Go  to  the  devil,"  said  Shorty,  making  another 
slash  at  the  roof  with  the  ax. 

"This  is  our  car,  I  tell  you,"  reiterated  the  men. 
"You  let  it  alone,  or  we'll  make  you."  Some  of 
the  men  looked  around  for  something  to  throw  at 
them. 

Si  walked  to  the  end  of  the  car,  tore  off  the  brake- 
wheel,  and  came  back. 

"You  fellers  down  there  shut  up  and  go  back  in 
side  to  your  cards,  if  you  know  what's  good  for  you," 
he  said.  "You're  nothing  but  a  lot  of  durned  skul 
kers.  We  are  here  under  orders.  We  don't  want 
nothin'  but  a  piece  o'  the  tin  roof.  You  kin  have 
the  rest.  If  any  of  you  attempts  to  throw  anything 
I'll  mash  him  into  the  ground  with  this  wheel.  Do 
you  hear  me?  Go  back  inside,  or  we'll  arrest  the 
whole  lot  of  you  and  take  you  back  to  your  regi 
ments." 

Si's  authoritative  tone,  and  the  red  stripes  on  his 
arm,  were  too  much  for  the  guilty  consciences  of 
the  skulkers,  and  they  went  back  inside  the  car.  The 
tearing  off  the  roof  proceeded  without  further  in 
terruption,  but  with  considerable  mangling  of  their 
hands  by  the  edges  of  the  tin. 

After  they  had  gotten  it  off,  they  proceeded  to  roll 
it  up  and  started  back  for  their  "house."  It  was 
a  fearful  load,  and  one  that  they  would  not  have 
attempted  to  carry  in  ordinary  times.  But  their 
blood  was  up;  they  were  determined  to  outshine 
everybody  else  with  their  tin  roof,  and  they  toiled 
on  over  the  mud  and  rough  ground,  although  every 


132  SI  KLEGG. 

little  while  one  of  them  would  make  a  misstep  and 
both  would  fall,  and  the  heavy  weight  would  seem 
to  mash  them  into  the  ground. 

"I  don't  wonder  old  Jake  Wilson  was  proud  of  his 
tin  roof,"  gasped  Si,  as  he  pulled  himself  out  of  a 
mudhole  and  rolled  the  tin  off  him  and  Shorty.  "If 
I'd  a  tin  roof  on  my  barn  durned  if  my  daughter 
should  walk  home  with  a  man  that  didn't  own  a 
whole  section  of  bottom  land  and  drove  o'  mules  to 
boot." 

It  was  fully  midnight  before  they  reached  their 
pen  and  laid  their  burden  down.  They  were  too 
tired  to  do  anything  more  than  lay  their  blankets 
down  on  a  pile  of  cedar  boughs  and  go  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  they  unrolled  their  booty  and 
gloated  over  it.  It  would  make  a  perfect  roof,  and 
they  felt  it  repaid  all  their  toils.  Upon  measurement 
they  found  it  much  larger  each  way  than  their  log 
pen. 

"Just  right,"  said  Shorty  gleefully.  "It'll  stick  out 
two  feet  all  around.  It's  the  aristocratic,  fashion 
able  thing  now-a-days  to  have  wide  cornishes.  Re 
member  them  swell  houses  we  wuz  lookin'  at  in 
Louisville?  We're  right  in  style  with  them." 

The  rest  of  Co.  Q  gathered  around  to  inspect  it 
and  envy  them. 

"I  suppose  you  left  some,"  said  Jack  Wilkinson. 
"I'll  go  down  there  and  get  the  rest." 

"Much  you  won't,"  said  Si,  looking  toward  the 
car;  "there  ain't  no  rest." 

They  all  looked  that  way.  Early  as  it  was  the  car 
had  totally  disappeared,  down  to  the  wheels,  which 
some  men  were  rolling  away. 


WINTER    QUARTERS. 


133 


"That  must  be  some  o'  them  Maumee  River  Musk- 
rats,"  said  Shorty,  looking  at  the  latter.     "They'll 


THE    HOUSE    BEAUTIFUL. 

steal  anything  they  kin  git  away  with,  just  for  the 


134  SI  KLEGG. 

sake  of  stealin'.  What  on  earth  kin  they  do  with 
them  wheels?" 

"They  may  knock  'em  off  the  axles  an'  make 
hearths  for  their  fireplaces,  and  use  the  axles  for 
posts,"  suggested  Si. 

"Here,  you  fellers,"  said  Shorty,  "give  us  a  lift. 
Let's  have  a  house-raisin'.  Help  us  put  the  roof  on." 

They  fell  to  with  a  will,  even  the  Captain  assist 
ing,  and,  after  a  good  deal  of  trouble  and  more  cut 
hands,  succeeded  in  getting  the  piece  of  tin  on  top  of 
the  pen  and  bent  down  across  the  ridge-pole.  Si  and 
Shorty  proceeded  to  secure  it  in  place  by  putting 
other  poles  across  it  and  fastening  them  down  with 
ropes  and  strips  of  bark  to  the  lower  logs. 

"Your  broad  cornice  is  aristocratic,  as  you  say," 
said  the  Captain,  "but  I'm  afraid  it'll  catch  the 
wind,  and  tip  your  house  over  in  some  big  storm." 

"That's  so,"  admitted  Shorty;  "but  a  feller  that 
puts  on  airs  always  has  to  take  some  chances.  I 
don't  want  people  to  think  that  we  are  mean  and 
stingy  about  a  little  tin,  so  I  guess  we'll  keep  her 
just  as  she  is." 

The  next  day  they  borrowed  a  saw  from  the 
Pioneers,  cut  out  a  hole  for  the  door,  and  another 
for  the  fireplace.  They  made  a  frame  for  the  door 
out  of  pieces  of  cracker-boxes,  and  hung  up  their  bit 
of  canvas  for  a  door.  They  filled  up  the  spaces  be 
tween  the  logs  with  pieces  of  wood,  and  then  daubed 
clay  on  until  they  had  the  walls  tight.  They  gath 
ered  up  stones  and  built  a  commodious  fireplace, 
daubing  it  all  over  with  clay,  until  it  was  wind  and 
water  tight. 

"What  are  we  goin'  to  do  for  a  chimney,  Si?"  said 


WINTER    QUARTERS. 


135 


Shorty,  as  their  fireplace  became  about  breast-high. 
"Build  one  o'  sticks,  like  these  rebels  around  here? 
That'll  be  an  awful  lot  o'  work." 


SOLID  COMFORT. 

"I've  had  an  idee,"  said  Si.     "I  ain't  goin'  to  let 


136  SI  KLEGG. 

you  do  all  the  thinkin',  even  if  you  are  a  born  archi 
tect.  When  I  was  helpin'  draw  rations  yesterday,  I 
looked  at  the  pork  barrels,  and  got  an  idee  that  one 
of  them'd  make  a  good  chimney.  I  spoke  to  Bill 
Suggs,  the  Commissary-Sergeant,  about  it,  and  he 
agreed  to  save  me  a  barrel  when  it  was  empty,  which 
it  must  be  about  now.  I'll  go  down  and  see  him 
about  it." 

Si  presently  came  back  rolling  the  empty  barrel. 
They  knocked  the  bottom  out,  carefully  plastered  it 
over  inside  with  clay,  and  set  it  up  on  their  fireplace, 
and  made  the  joints  with  more  clay.  It  made  a 
splendid  chimney.  They  washed  the  clay  off  their 
hands,  built  a  cheerful  fire  inside,,  cooked  a  bountiful 
supper,  and  ate  it  in  the  light  and  comfort  of  their 
own  fireside.  It  was  now  Saturday  night.  They 
had  had  a  week  of  severer  toil  than  they  had  ever 
dreamed  of  performing  at  home,  but  its  reward  was 
ample. 

"Ah,"  said  Shorty,  as  he  sat  on  a  chunk  of  wood, 
pipe  in  mouth,  and  absorbed  the  warmth,  "this  is 
something  like  home  and  home  comforts.  It's  more 
like  white  livin'  than  I've  had  since  I've  bin  in  the 
army.  Let's  act  like  men  and  Christians  tomorrow, 
by  not  doin'  a  lick  o'  work  o'  any  kind.  Let's  lay 
abed  late,  and  then  wash  up  all  over,  and  go  to  hear 
the  Chaplain  preach." 

"Agreed,"  said  Si,  as  he  spread  out  their  klankets 
for  the  night. 

It  had  been  threatening  weather  all  day,  and  now 
the  rain  came  down  with  a  rush. 

"Ain't  that  music,  now,"  said  Shorty,  listening  to 
the  patter  on  the  roof.  "Nothin'  sounds  so  sweet  as 


WINTER    QUARTERS.  137 

rain  upon  a  tin  roof.  Let  it  rain  cats  and  dogs,  if 
it  wants  to.  The  harder  the  better.  Si,  there's 
nothin'  so  healthy  to  sleep  under  as  a  tin  roof.  I'll 
never  have  anything  but  a  tin  roof  on  my  house 
when  I  git  home.  And  we've  got  the  only  tin  roof 
in  the  regiment.  Think  o'  that." 
But  Si  was  too  sleepy  to  think. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


ADDING  TO  THEIR  COMFORT — MAKING  ADDITIONS  AND 
IMPROVEMENTS  TO  THEIR  "HOME." 

SI  AND  Shorty  kept  Sunday  as  planned.  They 
really  did  not  know  how  tired  they  were  until 
they  formed  the  resolution  to  give  the  day  to 
absolute  restfulness.  Then  every  joint  and  muscle 
ached  from  the  ardous  toil  of  the  past  week,  added 
to  the  strains  and  hardships  of  a  week  of  battle. 

"Used  to  seem  to  me,"  said  Shorty,  "that  when 
Sunday  come  after  the  first  week's  plowin'  in  Spring 
that  I  had  a  bile  in  every  limb.  Now  I  appear  to 
have  one  in  every  j'int,  and  in  my  brains  as  well. 
I  didn't  ever  suppose  that  I  could  be  so  tired,  and 
yit  be  able  to  set  up  and  take  nourishment." 

"Same  here,"  said  Si.  "Feel  as  if  I  ought  to  be 
wrapped  in  cotton  battin'  an'  sweet  oil,  an'  laid  away 
for  awhile." 

The  only  thing  about  them  which  did  not  show 
deadly  lassitude  was  their  appetites.  Fortunately, 
the  Commissary  took  a  liberal  view  of  the  Regula 
tions  as  to  rations,  issuing  enough  to  make  up  for 
those  they  had  not  drawn  during  the  times  when 
his  department  was  not  in  working  order.  They 
ate  all  these  and  wanted  more. 

The  Quartermaster  had  also  succeeded  in  re-estab 
lishing  relations.  They  drew  from  him  new  under- 


ADDING    TO    THEIR    COMFORT. 


139 


clothing  to  replace  that  which  they  had  lost,  took  a 
thorough  wash — the  first  good  one  they  had  had  since 


"AM  I  A  SOLDIER  OP  THE  CROSS?" 

Christmas  morning — beat  and  brushed  much  of  the 
accumulated   mud — representing   every   variety    of 


140  SI  KLEGG. 

soil  between  Murfreesboro'  and  Nashville — out  of 
their  clothes,  cleaned  and  greased  their  heavy  bro- 
gans,  and  went  with  their  comrades  to  divine  serv 
ice,  feeling  that  they  had  made  every  provision  re 
quired  for  a  proper  observance  of  the  holy  day. 

Si  had  a  really  fine  baritone  voice,  and  led  the 
meeting  in  singing 

"Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross?" 

After  church  Shorty  said: 

"Si,  when  you  were  singing  so  loud  about  being  a 
soldier  of  the  cross  and  a  follower  of  the  Lamb  I 
wanted  to  git  right  up  and  tell  you  that  you'd  have 
to  git  a  transfer  from  the  200th  Ind.  We've  lots 
of  cross  soldiers,  especially  on  mud  marches,  but  we 
don't  want  any  soldiers  in  this  regiment  except  for 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  and  the  laws 
made  in  pursuance  thereof,  against  all  enemies  and 
opposers  whatsoever,  either  foreign  or  domestic.  An' 
as  for  follerin'  the  lamb,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  the 
orders  agin  foragin'." 

"0,  dry  up,  Shorty.  I  don't  believe  going  to 
church  done  you  a  mite  o'  good.  I  tell  you  it  done 
me  lots." 

"There  you're  mistaken,"  answered  Shorty.  "It 
just  done  me  lots  o'  good.  Kind  o'  restored  communi 
cations  with  home  and  respectable  folks  once  more, 
an'  made  me  think  I  still  belonged  to  what  the 
jographies  call  civilized  and  partially-civilized  peo 
ple,  something  that  we  seem  in  great  danger  o'  for- 
gettin',  the  way  we've  bin  goin'  on." 

The  good  Chaplain's  fervent  appeals  to  devote  the 


ADDING    TO    THEIR    COMFORT.  141 

day  to  earnest  consideration  of  their  soul's  welfare 
could  not  keep  them  from  spending  the  hours  in 
planning  and  discussing  further  improvements  on 
the  house. 

"We  must  have  a  real  door,"  said  Shorty,  looking 
critically  at  the  strip  of  canvas  that  did  duty  for 
that  important  adjunct.  "Muslin  looks  shiftless,  an', 
besides,  I  think  it's  unhealthy.  Lets  in  drafts,  an' 
will  give  us  colds." 

"Too  bad  about  our  ketchin'  cold,"  said  Si  sardon 
ically.  "Most  o'  the  time  lately  we've  bin  sleepin' 
out  with  nothin'  around  us  but  the  State  line  o* 
Tennessee." 

"Don't  be  too  flip,  young  man,"  said  Shorty 
severely.  "You  have  not  had  a  home  with  its  bless- 
in's  long  enough  to  appreciate  it.  I  say  we  must 
have  a  real  door  an'  a  winder  that'll  let  in  light, 
an'  a  bedstead,  an'  a  floor  o'  planks." 

"We  ought  to  have  'em,  certainly,"  agreed  Si. 
"But  must  have  'em  is  quite  another  thing.  How  are 
we  goin'  to  git  'em?  There's  40,000  men  around 
here,  snatchin'  at  every  piece  o'  plank  as  big  as  your 
hand." 

"Well,"  retorted  Shorty,  "we're  goin'  to  have  a 
real  door,  a  winder,  and  a  plank  floor,  all  the  same. 
They're  to  be  had  somewhere  in  this  country,  an' 
they'll  have  to  run  mighty  hard  to  git  away  from 
us." 

The  next  morning  the  Orderly-Sergeant  said : 

"Corp'l  Klegg,  you'll  take  five  men,  go  down  to  the 
railroad,  and  report  to  the  Commissary  to  load  the 
wagon  with  rations." 

Si  took  Shorty  and  four  others  and  started  off  on 


142  SI  KLEGG. 

this  errand.  He  was  soon  so  busy  rolling  heavy 
pork  barrels  from  the  car  into  the  wagon  that  he 
failed  to  notice  that  Shorty  was  not  with  him. 
Finally  they  got  the  wagon  loaded  and  started,  with 
them  walking  alongside,  puffing  and  sweating  from 
their  vigorous  labor. 

They  were  not  100  yards  away  from  the  train, 
when  the  Conductor  came  storming  up : 

"See  here,  Lieutenant,"  he  said  to  the  Commis 
sary,  "some  o'  them  men  o'  yours  sneaked  around 
and  stole  the  hind  door  off  my  caboose  while  you 
was  loading  up." 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  the  Commis 
sary,  firing  up  at  once.  "Mine  ain't  that  kind  of 
men.  I'd  have  you  know  they  don't  steal.  What 
reason  have  you  for  saying  so?" 

"The  door  was  on  the  car  when  I  came  out  to 
meet  you,  and  now  it's  gone,  and  there's  been  no 
body  near  the  caboose  but  your  men." 

"I  know  my  men  were  working  hard  all  the  time 
right  under  my  eyes,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  growing 
angrier  every  minute.  "They're  not  the  men  to 
steal  anything,  and  if  they  were  they  didn't  have 
any  chance.  They  were  too  busy.  You  can  satisfy 
yourself  that  they  didn't.  You  see  none  of  them 
have  the  door  with  them,  and  you  can  search  the 
wagon.  Get  right  in  there  and  look  for  it." 

The  Conductor  climbed  into  the  wagon  and  looked 
carefully  through. 

"No,  it's  not  there,"  he  said  ruefully. 

Then  the  Commissary's  wrath  flamed  out.  "There, 
confound  you,  you  are  at  it  again,  you  infernal  civil 
ian,  slandering  and  abusing  men  who  are  fighting 


ADDING    TO    THEIR    COMFORT. 


143 


for  their  country.     Charging  them  with  stealing 
your  old  caboose  door.     Think  of  your  disgraceful 


SHORTY  CONFISCATES  THE  CABOOSE  DOOR. 

impudence,  villifying  men  who  are  shedding  their 
blood  for  their  country  by  such  shameless  charges. 


144  SI  KLEGG. 

What'd  they  want  with  your  old  car  door?  Get  away 
from  here,  before  I  lose  my  temper  and  do  you 
damage." 

The  Conductor  walked  away  muttering: 

"Blasted  thieving  whelps  o'  soldiers,  what'll  they 
steal  next?  Lost  all  my  train  tools  at  Lavergne, 
swiped  the  bedding  at  Smyrna,  got  away  with  our 
clothes  and  dishes  at  Antioch,  stole  stove  and  lan 
terns  at  Overall's  Crick,  and  now  they've  begun  on 
the  cars.  I'll  be  lucky  to  have  enough  wheels  left 
on  the  engine  to  run  her  back  to  Nashville." 

The  Commissary  continued  to  fume  about  the  dis 
graceful  charges  brought  against  his  men  until  they 
reached  camp.  The  wagon  was  unloaded  and  the 
squad  dismissed. 

As  Si  came  up  to  the  "house"  he  saw  Shorty 
busily  engaged  in  hanging  the  caboose  door  by 
means  of  hinges  which  he  had  improvised  from  some 
boot  tops. 

"Why,  Shorty,"  gasped  Si,  "  how  did  you  git  away 
with  it?" 

"Easy  enough,"  answered  his  partner.  "I  saw  you 
fellers  gittin'  very  busy  over  them  pork  barrels,  an' 
all  the  train  hands  helpin'  you.  I  meandered  back 
to  the  caboose,  gently  lifted  the  back  door  offen  its 
hinges,  slipped  down  into  the  weeds  in  the  ditch,  an' 
kept  under  cover  o'  them  till  I  was  out  o'  sight.  Say, 
isn't  it  just  a  bully  door?" 

That  afternoon  Si  and  Shorty  walked  over  to 
where  a  detail  of  men  were  at  work  building  a  bridge 
across  Stone  River,  under  the  direction  of  a  Lieuten 
ant  of  Pioneers.  They  had  an  idea  that  an  oppor 
tunity  might  occur  there  to  pick  up  something  that 


ADDING    TO    THEIR    COMFORT.  145 

would  add  to  their  home  comforts.  The  Lieutenant 
was  bustling  about,  hurrying  the  completion  of  the 
work  before  night.  As  the  detail  was  made  up  of 
squads  from  various  regiments,  he  was  not  ac 
quainted  with  the  men,  and  had  much  difficulty  m 
assigning  them  to  the  work  that  would  suit  them 
best.  He  came  up  to  Si,  who  still  wore  the  artillery 
Sergeant's  overcoat  he  had  picked  up  during  the  bat 
tle,  and  said  sharply : 

"Here,  Sergeant,  don't  stand  around  doing  noth 
ing.  Set  the  men  a  good  example  by  pitching  in 
lively.  There's  plenty  to  do  for  everybody.  If  you 
can't  find  anything  else,  help  dig  down  that  bank, 
and  roll  those  big  stones  into  the  fill.  Hold  on; 
I've  thought  of  something  else.  I  want  a  reliable 
man  to  send  over  for  some  lumber.  Put  one  of  your 
men  on  that  wagon  there,  and  go  with  him,  and  take 
this  letter  to  Capt.  Billings,  over  at  the  saw-mill. 
It's  a  requisition  for  a  load  of  lumber.  Avoid  the 
camps  as  much  as  possible  on  your  way  back,  or 
they'll  steal  every  inch  of  it  away  from  you." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Si,  saluting.  "Shorty,  jump 
on  the  wagon  there,  and  gather  up  the  lines." 

Shorty  very  obediently  took  his  place  on  the  seat 
of  the  two-horse  wagon  employed  by  the  Pioneers 
for  their  jobs. 

"Hurry  up,"  enjoined  the  Lieutenant;  "we  need 
those  boards  at  once." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Si,  saluting. 

"This  is  what  I  call  a  puddin',"  said  Shorty, 
oracularly,  as  they  drove  away.  "The  Lord  always 
kin  be  trusted  to  help  the  deservin',  if  the  deservin' 
only  keep  their  eyes  peeled  for  His  p' inters.  This 


146  SI  KLEGG. 

comes  from  not  workin'  yesterday  and  goin'  to 
church." 

They  drove  down  to  the  sawmill,  delivered  their 
requisition,  and  had  their  wagon  loaded  with  newly- 
sawn  plank.  The  Captain  had  the  planks  carefully 
counted,  the  number  and  feet  entered  upon  the  rec 
ord,  and  set  forth  upon  the  return  which  he  gave  to 
Si  to  be  delivered  to  the  Lieutenant  of  Pioneers. 

"Too  dod-gasted  much  bookkeepin'  in  this  army," 
remarked  Si,  rather  disconsolately,  and  he  put  the 
paper  in  his  blouse  pocket,  and  they  drove  away. 
"Wastes  entirely  too  much  valuable  time.  What'd 
he  count  them  boards  for  ?  Looked  like  he  suspicioned 
us.  How  are  we  going  to  git  away  with  any  o' 
them?" 

"I  wouldn't  have  that  man's  suspicious  mind  for 
anything,"  answered  Shorty.  "He  dcn't  trust  no 
body.  All  the  same,  we're  goin'  to  have  enough 
boards  for  our  floor." 

"How  are  we  goin'  to  manage  it?"  asked  Si. 

"Lots  o'  ways.  There's  no -need  o'  your  carryin' 
that  paper  back  to  the  Lootenant.  I  might  pick  up 
several  hundred  feet  and  sneak  away  without  your 
knowin'  it.  Say" — as  a  bright  idea  struck  him — 
"what's  the  use  o'  goin'  back  to  the  Lootenant  at 
all?  Neither  of  us  belongs  to  his  detail.  He  don't 
know  us  from  a  side  o'  sole-leather.  What's  the  mat 
ter  with  drivin'  the  wagon  right  up  to  camp,  and 
swipin'  the  whole  business,  horses,  wagon  and  all?" 

"I  hain't  been  in  the  army  as  long  as  you  have, 
Shorty,"  said  Si  doubtfully.  "I've  made  some  prog 
ress  in  petty  larceny,  as  you  know,  but  I  ain't  yit 
quite  up  to  stealin'  a  span  o'  horses  and  a  wagon. 


ADDING    TO    THEIR    COMFORT.  147 

Mebbe  I'll  come  to  it  in  time,  but  I  ain't  quite  ready 
for  it  now." 

"That  comes  from  goin'  to  church  yesterday,  and 
hearin'  the  Chaplain  read  the  Ten  Commandments," 
said  Shorty  wrathfully.  "I  don't  believe  they  ought 
to  allow  the  Chaplains  to  read  them  things.  They 
ain't  suited  to  army  life,  and  there  ought  to  be  a 
general  order  that  they're  prejudicial  to  good  order 
and  military  discipline.  Where'd  the  army  be  if  they 
obeyed  that  one  about  not  covetin'  a  horse  or  other 
movable  property?  I  tell  you  what  we'll  do,  since 
you're  so  milky  on  the  thing:  We'll  drive  up  in 
front  of  our  house,  unload  enough  boards  for  our 
floor,  you  git  out  your  gun  and  bayonet  and  stand 
guard  over  'em,  and  I'll  drive  the  wagon  down  near 
the  bridge,  and  jump  off  and  leave  it." 

"All  right,"  said  Si ;  "that'll  do  splendidly,  if  you 
think  you  kin  dodge  the  Lootenant." 

"0,  he  be  darned,"  said  Shorty  scornfully.  "I 
could  git  away  from  him  if  I  wasn't  10  years  old." 

They  carried  out  the  plan.  They  drove  up  in  front 
of  their  residence,  and  threw  off  a  liberal  quantity 
of  the  boards.  The  other  boys  raised  a  yell,  and 
made  a  break  for  them.  But  Si  ran  inside,  got  his 
gun,  and  established  himself  on  guard. 

"Don't  you  budge  an  inch  from  there  till  I  git 
back,"  shouted  Shorty,  as  he  drove  away.  "Don't  let 
one  of  Co.  Q  lay  a  finger  on  them.  They're  the 
durndest  thieves  outside  the  Jeffersonville  Peniten 
tiary.  You  can't  trust  one  o'  them  farther  than  you 
could  sling  a  bull  by  the  tail.  I'll  be  back  soon." 

Shorty  drove  gaily  down  until  he  got  close  to  the 
bridge.  The  Lieutenant  had  been  impatiently  expect- 


148 


SI  KLEGG. 


ing  him,  and  as  soon  as  the  wagon  came  up  it  was 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  men  to  unload  it.  The 
Lieutenant  looked  over  the  load. 

"I  wonder  if  he  sent  enough.    Let  me  see  your  re- 


si  DEFENDED  THE  PLUNDER. 

turn,"  he  said,  looking  up  at  the  seat,  where  he  ex 
pected  to  find  the  Sergeant  he  had  put  in  charge. 
But  the  seat  was  empty.  Shorty  had  jumped  down, 
prudently  mingled  with  the  crowd,  avoided  the 
Lieutenant's  eye  with  much  more  than  his  usual  diffi- 


ADDING    TO    THEIR    COMFORT.  149 

dence,  and  was  modestly  making  his  way  back  to 
camp  behind  a  thicket  of  hazel  bushes.  When  he  got 
to  the  house  he  was  delighted  to  find  Si  still  master 
of  the  situation,  with  all  the  boards  present  and 
accounted  for.  They  quickly  transferred  them  to  the 
interior,  and  found  that  they  had  enough  for  a  nice 
floor,  besides  a  couple  of  extra  ones,  to  cut  up  into  a 
table  and  stools. 

"You  done  good  work  in  keepin'  the  other  boys 
offen  'em,  Si,"  said  he.  "I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't* 
The  only  thing  I've  got  agin  Co.  Q  is  that  the  boys 
will  steal.  Otherwise  they're  the  nicest  kind  o' 
boys." 

A  couple  of  days  later  they  got  a  pass  to  go  down 
to  Murfreesboro'  and  look  the  sleepy  old  town  over. 
They  were  particularly  interested  in  the  quaint  old 
courthouse,  which  had  once  been  the  capitol  of  Ten 
nessee.  They  happened  into  one  of  the  offices,  which 
was  entirely  deserted.  On  the  wall  hung  a  steel  en 
graving  of  Jeff  Davis  in  a  large  oak  frame. 

"That  blamed  old  rebel  picture  oughtn't  to  be 
hangin'  there,  Si,"  observed  Shorty. 

"Indeed  it  oughtn't.  Jeff  ought  to  be  hung  to  a 
sour-apple  tree,  and  that  glass'd  make  a  nice  winder 
for  our  house." 

"Indeed  it  would,"  Shorty  started  to  answer,  but 
time  was  too  precious  to  waste  in  speech.  In  an  in 
stant  he  had  shoved  an  old  desk  up  to  the  wall, 
mounted  it,  and  handed  the  picture  down  to  Si.  They 
wrapped  it  up  in  their  overcoats,  and  started  back 
for  camp.  They  had  seen  enough  of  Murfreesboro' 
for  that  day. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


"HOOSIER'S  REST" — si  AND  SHORTY  CHRISTEN  THEIR 

PLACE  AND  GIVE  A  HOUSE-WARMING. 

WITH  a  tin  roof,  a  real  door,  a  glazed  window 
and  a  plank  floor,  Si  and  Shorty's  house 
was  by  far  the  most  aristocratic  in  the 
cantonment  of  the  200th  Ind.,  if  not  the  entire  Win 
ter  quarters  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland.  A 
marble  mansion,  with  all  the  modern  improvements, 
could  not  more  proudly  overshadow  all  its  neighbors 
than  it  did. 

Even  the  Colonel's  was  no  comparison  to  it.  A 
tent-fly  had  been  made  to  do  duty  for  a  roof  at  the 
Colonel's.  It  could  not  be  stretched  evenly  and  tight. 
It  would  persistently  sag  down  in  spots,  and  each  of 
these  spots  became  a  reservoir  from  which  would  de 
scend  an  icy  stream.  A  blanket  had  to  serve  as  a 
door,  and  the  best  substitute  for  window  glass  were 
Commissary  blanks  greased  with  fat  from  headquar 
ters'  frying-pan.  The  floor,  instead  of  being  of 
clean,  new  plank,  as  Si's  and  Shorty's,  was  made  of 
the  warped  and  weather-beaten  boards  of  a  stable, 
which  had  been  torn  down  by  a  fatigue  detail. 

Si  and  Shorty  took  as  much  pride  and  pleasure  in 
their  architecture  as  any  nabob  over  his  million- 
dollar  villa.  They  were  constantly  on  the  alert  for 
anything  that  would  add  to  the  comfort  and  luxury 


"HOOSIER'S   REST."  151 

of  their  home.  In  their  wanderings  they  chanced  to 
come  across  an  old-fashioned  bedstead  in  an  out 
house.  It  was  of  the  kind  in  which  the  rails  screw 
together,  and  the  bed  is  held  up  by  a  strong  cord 
crossing  and  recrossing  from  one  rail  to  another. 
This  looked  like  real  luxury,  and  they  at  once  appro 
priated  it  without  any  consultation  with  the  owner, 
whoever  he  may  have  been. 

"It'd  be  a  waste  o'  time,  anyhow,"  remarked 
Shorty.  "He's  a  rebel,  and  probably  over  there  in 
Bragg's  army." 

They  made  a  tick  out  of  the  piece  of  wagon- 
cover,  filled  it  with  beech  leaves,  and  had  a  bed 
which  surpassed  their  most  extravagant  ideas  of 
comfort  in  the  army. 

"Shorty,"  said  Si,  as  they  snugged  themselves  in 
the  first  night,  "this  seems  almost  too  much.  Do  you 
ever  remember  settin'  the  whole  night  on  a  rail, 
with  nothin'  over  us  but  clouds  leakin'  ice-water?" 

"Shut  up,"  said  Shorty,  giving  him  a  kick  under 
the  blankets.  "Do  you  want  me  to  have  a  night 
mare?" 

They  got  a  number  of  flat  stones,  and  laid  down 
a  little  pavement  in  front  of  their  door,  and  drove 
an  old  bayonet  into  the  logs  to  serve  as  a  scraper. 
They  rigorously  insisted  on  every  visitor  using  this 
before  entering. 

"For  common  Wabash-bottom  fly-up-the-cricks 
and  private  soljers,  you're  puttin'  on  entirely  too 
many  frills,"  said  Sol  Murphy,  the  Wagonmaster, 
angrily,  as  it  was  firmly  insisted  upon  that  he  stay 
outside  until  he  carefully  cleaned  his  shoes  on  the 
bayonet.  "A  man  that's  afraid  o'  mud  hain't  no 


152  SI  KLEGG. 

business  in  the  army.  He  orter  stay  at  home  an' 
wear  Congress  gaiters  an'  pantalets.  You're  puttin' 
on  too  many  scollops,  I  tell  you.  You  knowed 
all  'bout  mud  in  the  Wabash  bottoms.  You  had 
'nuff  of  it  there,  the  Lord  knows." 

"Yes,  we  had,"  replied  Shorty;  "but  we  was  too 
well  raised  to  track  it  into  anybody's  parlor." 

"Parlor,"  echoed  Sol,  with  a  horse-laugh.  "Lord, 
how  fine  we  are,  just  becaze  one  o'  us  happens  to  be 
a  measly  little  Corporal.  In  some  armies  the  Wagon- 
masters  have  Corporals  to  wait  on  'em  an'  black 
their  boots.  Now,  I'll  tell  yo'  what  I've  come  for. 
I've  lost  my  scoop-shovel,  an'  I've  bin  told  that  you 
fellers  stole  it,  an'  are  usin'  it  to  bake  hoe-cakes  on. 
I've  come  up  here  to  see  if  you've  got  it,  an'  I'm  goin' 
right  in  there  to  see  for  myself,  mud  or  no  mud." 

"We  hain't  got  your  blamed  old  scoop-shovel;  you 
can't  git  it;  you  ain't  goin'  in  there  until  you  clean 
your  feet,  an'  not  then  onless  we  conclude  to  allow 
you,"  Shorty  replied. 

"I'm  goin'  in  there,  or  break  some  Wabash  loon's 
neck,"  said  the  Wagonmaster  wrathfully. 

"I  always  did  like  to  get  a  chance  to  lick  a  mule- 
whacker,"  said  Si,  pulling  off  his  overcoat.  "And 
the  bigger  and  the  more  consequential  he  is,  the 
better.  I've  never  licked  a  Wagonmaster  yit,  an' 
I'm  just  achin'  for  a  chance." 

The  Wagonmaster  was  the  bully  of  the  regiment, 
as  Wagonmasters  generally  are.  When  Si  came 
into  the  regiment,  a  green  cub,  just  getting  his 
growth,  and  afraid  of  everybody  who  assumed  a 
little  authority  and  had  more  knowledge  of  the 
world  than  he,  the  Wagonmaster  had  been  very  over- 


"HOOSIER'S  REST."  153 

bearing,  and  at  times  abusive.  That  is  the  way  of 
Wagonmasters  and  their  ilk.  The  remembrance  of 
this  rankled  in  Si's  mind. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Wagonmaster  failed  to  com 
prehend  the  change  that  a  few  months  of  such  serv 
ice  as  the  200th  Ind.'s  wrought  in  verdant,  bashful 
boys  like  Si.  He  thought  he  could  cow  him  as  easily 
as  he  did  when  Si  had  timidly  ventured  to  ask  His 
Greatness  a  modest  question  or  two  as  they  were 
crossing  the  Ohio  River.  Wagonmasters  were  always 
making  just  that  kind  of  mistakes. 

The  other  boys  ran  up  to  see  the  fun.  The 
Wagonmaster  made  a  rush  for  Si  with  doubled  fists, 
but  Si  quickly  stepped  to  one  side,  and  gave  the 
hulking  fellow  a  tap  on  the  butt  of  his  ear  that  laid 
him  over  in  the  mud.  The  other  boys  yelled  with 
delight.  Next  to  a  Sutler,  or  a  conceited,  fresh  young 
Aid,  the  soldiers  always  delighted  to  see  a  Wagon- 
master  get  into  trouble. 

The  Wagonmaster  sprang  up,  ready  for  another 
round;  but  the  boys  raised  the  cry  that  the  Officer 
of  the  Day  was  coming,  and  both  Si  and  the  Wagon- 
master  remembered  that  they  had  business  in  other 
parts  of  the  camp. 

The  next  day  Shorty  said:  "It's  all  right,  Si;  we 
could've  kept  that  scoop-shovel  as  long  as  we  wanted 
to,  but  I  thought  that  for  many  reasons  it'd  better 
be  got  out  of  the  regiment,  so  I've  traded  it  to  them 
Maumee  Muskrats  for  a  Dutch  oven  they'd  borrowed 
from  their  Major." 

"Bully,"  answered  Si.  "I'd  much  rather  have  the 
Dutch  oven,  anyway." 

Si  produced  a  piece  of  board,  which  had  been 


154 


SI  KLEGG. 


painted  white,  and  evidently  done  duty  as  part  of  the 
door  of  a  house  in  Murfreesboro',  looked  at  it  criti 
cally,  and  then  selected  a  piece  of  charcoal  from  the 
fire,  and  sat  down  with  an  air  of  studious  purpose. 
"What  are  you  up  to  now,  Si  ?"  asked  Shorty  curi 
ously. 


FLOORS    THE    WAGONMASTER. 


"Why,"  explained  Si,  "I've  noticed,  whenever 
we've  bin  in  any  big  place,  that  all  the  fine  houses 
have  signs  or  numbers,  or  something  else  onto  'em, 
to  name  'em.  I've  bin  thinkin'  o'  something  for 


"HOOSIER'S   REST."  155 

our  house.  How  does  'Hoosier's  Rest'  strike  you  for 
a  name?" 

"Splendid,"  said  Shorty.    "Couldn't  be  better." 

"And,"  continued  Si,  "I've  got  this  board  to  make 
a  sign  to  nail  up  over  the  door.  Do  you  know  how 
to  spell  Hoosier,  Shorty?" 

"Blest  if  I  do,"  answered  Shorty.  "It  wasn't  in 
our  book.  At  least,  we  never  got  to  it,  if  it  was. 
You  see  our  spellin'-school  broke  up  just  as  we  got 
to  'incompatible.'  The  teacher  got  too  fond  o'  Nancy 
Billings,  that  I  was  castin'  sheep's  eyes  at  myself. 
He  got  to  givin'  her  easy  words,  to  keep  her  at  the 
head  o'  the  class,  and  pickin'  hard  ones  for  me,  to 
send  me  to  the  foot,  where  I'd  be  fur  away  from  her. 
I  wouldn't  stand  it  always,  so  me  an'  him  had  it  out 
one  night  before  all  the  scholars;  I  got  away  with 
him,  and  he  left  the  country,  and  busted  up  the 
school." 

"Hoosier,"  repeated  Si  to  himself.  "I  never  saw 
it  spelled.  But  there  must  be  some  way  to  spell  it. 
Let  me  see :  "W-h-o  spells  'who.'  " 

"That's  so,"  assented  Shorty. 

"I-s  spells  'is,'"  continued  Si.  "Who-is— that's 
right  so  far.  H-e-r-e  spells  'here.'  ' Who-is-here  ?' 
That  seems  almost  right,  don't  it,  Shorty?" 

"It  certainly  does,"  replied  Shorty,  scratching  his 
head  to  accelerate  his  mental  action.  "Or  it  might 
be,  Si,  w-h-o,  who;  i-s,  is;  and  y-e-r,  yer.  You 
know  some  ignorant  folks  say  yer  for  you.  And 
they  say  the  name  came  from  the  people  who  first 
settled  in  Injianny  sayin'  'Who's  yer?"  to  any  new 
comer." 

"I  believe  you're  right,  Shorty,"  said  Si,  bending 


156  SI  KLEGG. 

over  the  board  with  the  charcoal  to  begin  the  work. 
"We'll  make  it  that  way,  anyway." 

The  next  day  passers-by  saw  a  white  board  nailed 
up  over  the  door,  which  contained  a  charcoal  sketch 
of  a  soldier  seated  on  a  chunk  of  wood,  with  a  pipe 
in  his  mouth,  taking  as  much  ease  as  Si  could  throw 
into  the  outlines  of  his  face  and  body,  and  with  it  was 
this  legend: 

"WHO  IS.  YER'S  REST." 

The  next  idea  that  came  into  the  partners'  minds 
was  that  the  requirements  of  society  demanded  that 
they  give  a  housewarming  in  their  sumptuous  abode. 
They  at  once  set  about  making  it  a  memorable  social 
event. 

While  out  with  a  wagon  after  forage  they  found 
an  Indiana  man  who  had  settled  in  that  country.  He 
had  a  good  orchard.  They  bought  from  him  a  bar 
rel  of  pretty  hard  cider  and  several  bushels  of 
apples.  His  wife  knew  how  to  make  fried  dough 
nuts  of  real  Indiana  digestibility.  They  would  be 
luxuries  for  the  boys,  and  a  half-bushel  were  con 
tracted  for.  The  farmer  was  to  bring  them  all  in 
his  wagon,  and  Si  and  Shorty  were  to  meet  him  at 
the  pickets  and  guard  the  treasures  to  their  abode. 

They  bought  a  little  bale  of  fragrant  Kinnikinnick 
tobacco  from  the  sutler,  made  a  sufficiency  of  corn 
cob  pipes,  swept  off  the  ground  in  front  of  their 
house,  which,  as  there  had  been  no  rain  for  several 
days,  was  in  good  condition,  with  brooms  of  brush, 
that  it  might  serve  for  a  dancing-floor,  gathered 
in  a  stock  of  pitch-pine  knots  for  their  fire,  spoke 


'HOOSIER'S    REST.' 


157 


to  Bunty  Jim  to  bring  his  fiddle  along,  and  to 
Uncle  Sassafras,  the  Colonel's  cook,  to  come  down 
with  his  banjo,  and  their  preparations  were  com 
pleted. 


HOOSIER'S  REST. 


It  was  a  crisp,  delightful  Winter  evening,  with  the 
moon  at  full,  the  fire  burning  brightly,  and  every 
body  in  the  best  of  spirits.  The  awful  week  of 
marching,  enduring  and  suffering;  of  terrific  fight 
ing.  limitless  bloodshed  ;  of  wounds  and  death  to  one 


158  SI  KLEGG. 

out  of  every  four  men  in  the  ranks;  of  nerve-rack 
ing  anxieties  to  all  might  as  well  have  been  centuries 
ago  for  any  sign  that  appeared  on  the  bright,  ani 
mated  faces  of  the  young  men  who  gathered  in  front 
of  the  cabin.  They  smoked,  danced  old-fashioned 
country  dances  to  the  music  of  th2  fiddle  and  the 
banjo,  and  sang  songs  which  lamented  the  death  of 
"Lily  Dale,"  mourned  that  "My  Nelly  was  sleeping 
in  the  Hazel  Dell,"  adjured  the  "Silver  Moon"  to 
"roll  on,"  and  so  on  through  the  whole  repertoire 
of  the  sentimental  ballads  of  that  day. 

Then  they  were  invited  into  the  house  to  inspect 
its  complete,  luxurious  appointments,  and  feast 
themselves  to  bursting  on  apples,  hard  cider,  and 
doughnuts  that  would  have  tried  any  stomach  but 
a  young  soldier's. 

Billy  Gurney,  who  had  been  back  to  Nashville  as 
one  of  the  guard  to  a  train-load  of  wounded,  was 
induced  to  favor  the  company  with  the  newest  song, 
which  had  just  reached  that  city.  He  cleared  his 
throat  with  another  tincupful  of  cider,  and  started 
off  with: 

• 

"When  this  cruel  war  is  over." 

Rapturous  applause  followed  the  first  verse,  and 
Billy  started  in  to  teach  them  the  chorus,  so  they 
could  all  join. 

A  loud  explosion  came  from  the  fireplace,  a  camp- 
kettle  full  of  cider  that  was  being  mulled  by  the  fire 
was  spattered  over  the  company,  scalding  some  of 
them  severely;  stones  from  the  fireplace  and  bullets 
flew  about  the  room.  They  all  rushed  out.  Foot- 


"BOOSTER'S  REST."  159 

steps  could  be  heard  running  in  the  distance.  They 
looked  in  that  direction,  and  recognized  Sol  Murphy's 
broad  back  and  bushy  head. 

"That  blamed  Wagonmaster  dropped  a  nosebag 
with  a  lot  o'  cartridges  in  it  down  the  chimbly,"  said 
Shorty,  who  had  made  an  inspection  of  the  fireplace. 
"Mad  because  he  wasn't  invited.  You  bet,  I'll  sali 
vate  him  well  for  that  little  trick." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


DEACON    KLEGG'S    SURPRISE — DECIDES    TO   VISIT    MUR- 
FREESBORO'  AND  MEETS  WITH  ADVENTURES. 

44  ]V  /f  OTHER,"  said  Mr.  Josiah  Klegg,  sr.,  sud- 

J[yJ[      denly  laying  down  the  County  paper,  and 

beginning  to  polish  his  spectacles  with 

his   red   bandanna,   "do   you   know   what   I've  the 

greatest  mind  in  the  world  to  do?" 

It  was  an  evening  in  February,  1863,  and  the  fam 
ily  had  been  sitting  for  some  hours  after  supper 
around  the  bright  fire,  engaged  in  various  occupa 
tions. 

"No,  father,"  said  Mrs.  Klegg,  looking  up  from  her 
knitting  with  such  interest  that  she  dropped  several 
stitches.  The  girls  stopped  their  sewing,  and  turned 
expectant  eyes  on  their  father.  When  Mr.  Josiah 
Klegg,  sr.,  announced  that  he  had  a  great  mind  to 
do  anything,  that  thing  stood  in  imminent  danger 
of  being  done.  He  was  not  given  to  ordinary 
schemes,  still  less  to  idle  speech.  He  thought  slowly 
and  doggedly,  but  when  he  had  arrived  at  a  con 
clusion  there  were  200  pounds  of  solid,  stubborn  un 
changeable  Indiana  farmer  behind  the  conclusion. 

"What  is  it,  father?"  asked  Mrs.  Klegg.  making 
an  automatic  effort  to  gather  up  her  lost  stitches. 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  go  down  to  Murfreesboro'  and 
see  Si,"  responded  the  father. 


DEACON    KLEGG'S   SURPRISE.  161 

"Why,  father !"  gasped  the  three  "wimmen  folks." 

"Go  down  there  among  them  gorillas?"  ejaculated 
Mrs.  Klegg. 

"And  John  Morgan  raiders,"  echoed  Maria. 

"And  Secesh  soljers,  butternut  brigands,  rebel 
rascals,"  added  Tilda. 

"Well,  answered  Mr.  Klegg,  deliberately,  "they've 
been  peggin'  away  at  Si  for  a  good  many  months 
now,  and  they  haven't  killed  him  by  a  jug  full.  Guess 
I  kin  stand  'em  for  a  few  days.  The  papers  say 
that  the  army's  settled  down  at  Murfreesboro'  for 
the  Winter,  and  that  the  railroad's  runnin'  all  right 
from  Looyiville  clean  there.  I  kin  do  nothin'  'round 
the  farm  for  the  next  three  or  four  weeks,  till  Spring 
opens,  except  the  chores  about  the  house,  which  Jim- 
mie  Watkins  kin  tend  to  as  well  as  I  kin.  I've  got 
all  my  fences  in  good  shape,  and  split  all  the  rails 
I  need.  There's  wood  enough  cut  to  last  the  Win 
ter  out.  I've  hauled  all  the  wheat  to  town  I'm  goin' 
to  till  prices  go  higher.  I  finished  gittin'  out  my 
clover  seed  yesterday,  and  now  there's  nothin'  left 
for  a  month  but  to  do  boy's  work  'round  the  house, 
or  talk  politics  down  at  the  store.  I'd  rather  go 
down  and  see  Si." 

"Why,  father,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Klegg,  "how 
kin  you  ever  git  along  in  them  camps,  and  live  the 
way  them  soljers  do?" 

"You  forgit,"  said  her  husband,  with  a  touch  of 
dignity,  "that  I  druv  team  for  a  whole  week  in  the 
Black  Hawk  war.  I  wanted  to  enlist,  but  I  was  too 
young.  Then  I  turned  out  and  drilled  with  the  mil 
itia  as  long  as  there  was  any  musters.  I  know  a  good 
deal  more  about  war  than  you  think." 


162  SI  KLEGG. 

"How  do  you  s'pose  you'll  ever  find  Si  in  all  that 
ruck  o'  men?"  said  Mrs.  Klegg  doubtfully. 

"O,  they  all  know  Si  by  this  time,"  returned  the 
father  confidently.  "Besides,  he's  an  officer  now.  I'll 
go  right  to  Gen.  Rosecrans's  Headquarters.  He's 
probably  right  near  him,  where  he  kin  have  him  at 
any  time.  But  don't  write  to  Si  that  I'm  comin'.  I 
want  to  surprise  him." 

As  soon  as  it  was  seen  that  the  father  was  deter 
mined  to  go,  mother  and  daughters  entered  upon 
the  scheme  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm. 

Each  began  to  think  of  some  useful  thing  that 
they  could  send  to  Si  to  add  to  his  comfort.  Mrs. 
Klegg  had  already  knit  a  couple  of  pairs  of  lambs'- 
wool  socks,  and  was  at  work  on  a  third.  Maria  had 
knit  a  pair  of  mittens,  gay  with  the  National  colors 
and  representing  the  flag.  The  blue  field  with  the 
white  stars  around  the  wrists,  while  the  red  and 
white  stripes  ran  down  the  fingers.  When  they  were 
put  on  the  effect  was  picturesque,  not  to  say  startling. 

"When  Si  holds  up  his  hands,"  remarked  Matilda, 
"they'll  look  like  big  hollyhock  blossoms,  and  the 
men'll  wonder  where  he  got  posies  in  Winter." 

Matilda  contributed  a  red  flannel  shirt,  upon  which 
she  had  been  engaged  since  the  beginning  of  Winter 
reminded  her  that  such  a  present  would  be  very 
acceptable  to  Si.  She  had  done  a  lot  of  her  finest 
stitching  upon  it.  Si's  initials  were  wrought  in  white 
thread  on  the  cuffs,  and  on  the  bosom  was  a  maze 
of  white  lines  representing  hearts,  anchors,  roses 
and  flags  of  the  Union.  In  the  center  of  these,  in 
letters  of  bold  outline  but  rugged  execution,  was  the 
legend:  "Josiah  Klegg.  His  shirt.  From  Tildy." 


DEACON  KLEGG'S  SURPRISE.         163 

"Round  is  the  ring, 

That  has  no  end; 
So  is  my  luv  for  you, 

My  dearest  friend." 

"I  know  it  ain't  quite  right  to  speak  of  Si  as  a 
friend,"  she  explained,  when  she  spread  the  shirt 
out  for  the  family's  examination  and  admiration; 
"but  I  couldn't  think  of  nothin'  to  rhyme  with 
brother." 

"I  could,"  said  Maria,  in  her  superior  way.  "I'd 
said  somethin'  like  this : 

"The  ring's  no  end 

From  which  to  t'other; 
So  is  the  love  I  send 

My  onliest  brother." 

"Maria,  you  always  was  so  much  smarter'n  me  in 
writin'  poetry,"  admitted  Matilda.  "It  would've  bin 
ever  so  much  nicer.  But  it's  too  late  now  to  do  it 
over  agin." 

Annabel  was  sorely  puzzled  what  to  send.  She 
wanted  something  that  would  be  indicative  of  her 
feelings  toward  Si,  and  yet  maiden  modesty  re 
strained  with  the  fear  of  sending  something  that 
might  be  too  significant.  She  spent  a  sleepless  night 
thinking  it  over,  and  finally  decided  to  send  a  new 
ambrotype  of  herself,  with  a  lock  of  her  hair.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  this  kept  Si  warmer  than  a  whole 
bale  of  flannel  shirts  would  have  done. 

A  thousand  things  occurred  to  the  family  that  Si 
would  enjoy,  from  a  couple  of  feather  pillows  to  a 


164 


SI  KLEGG. 


crock  of  "head  cheese,"  of  which  Si  used  to  be  im 
mensely  fond.  The  old  hair  trunk  was  brought  down 
from  the  garret,  and  its  dimensions  studied.  But  the 


A   STOUTLY-BUILT,    FARMER-LOOKING    MAN    ENTERED 
THE   TRAIN." 


next  evening  Jim  Wilkins,  of  Co.  Q,  who  was  home 
patching  up  a  leg  which  had  caught  a  bullet  at  Stone 
River,  came  in,  and  his  advice  was  asked. 


DEACON  KLEGG'S  SURPRISE.         165 

"No,  sir-ree,"  said  he,  emphatically.  "Don't  you 
never  take  no  trunk  nor  no  box.  Don't  you  take 
nothin'  that  you  can't  hang  on  to,  and  keep  your 
eye  on  every  minute.  I  think  the  Army  o'  the  Cum 
berland  is  the  most  honestest  army  in  the  whole 
world.  I'd  knock  any  man  down  in  a  minute  that 
hinted  there  was  a  single  thief  in  it.  All  the  same, 
the  only  sure  way  to  keep  anything  you  want  is  to 
never  let  go  of  it  for  a  second.  You'd  better  only 
take  a  carpetsack,  and  look  mighty  sharp  after  that, 
the  nearer  you  git  to  the  army.  Keep  one  eye  on  it 
all  the  time  after  you  cross  the  Ohio  River,  and  both 
eyes  on  it  when  you  git  to  Murfreesboro'." 

A  week  later  a  strongly-built,  farmer-looking  man 
entered  the  Nashville  train  at  Louisville  and  looked 
anxiously  around  among  the  crowd  of  soldiers  with 
which  it  was  filled.  His  full,  resolute  face  was  desti 
tute  of  whiskers,  except  a  clump  of  sandy  hair  on 
his  chin.  He  wore  a  coarse  but  warm  overcoat,  a 
black  slouch  hat,  around  his  neck  was  a  voluminous 
yarn  comforter,  and  mittens  of  the  same  generous 
proportions  were  on  his  hands,  one  of  which  held  a 
bulging  blue  umbrella  and  the  other  a  large  striped 
carpetsack. 

He  found  a  vacant  seat  beside  a  rough-looking 
soldier,  who  had  evidently  been  drinking,  placed  his 
precious  carpetsack  between  his  heavy,  well-oiled 
boots,  stuck  his  umbrella  beside  it,  unwound  his 
comforter,  laid  it  back  on  his  shoulders,  took  off  his 
mittens,  unbuttoned  his  overcoat,  and  took  from  his 
pocket  a  Jong  plug  of  navy  tobacco,  from  which  he 
cut  off  a  liberal  chew,  and  then  courteously  tendered 
the  plug  and  knife  to  his  neighbor,  with  the  ramark : 


166  SI  KLEGG. 

"Have  a  chaw,  stranger." 

The  soldier  took  the  plug,  cut  it  in  two,  put  the 
bigger  part  in  his  own  pocket,  sliced  off  a  liberal 
portion  off  the  other  for  his  own  mouth,  and  then 
rather  reluctantly  handed  the  remainder,  with  the 
knife,  back  to  Mr.  Klegg,  without  so  much  as  a 
"thankee." 

"Manners  seem  a  little  different  in  the  army  from 
what  they  are  in  Injianny,"  thought  Mr.  Klegg;  "but 
mebbe  the  soldier's  not  had  a  chance  to  git  any  ter- 
baker  for  a  long  time." 

He  chewed  meditatively  for  some  minutes,  and 
then  made  another  friendly  advance  toward  his  seat- 
partner. 

"S'pose  we'll  start  purty  soon,  won't  we, 
stranger?" 

"The  devil  you  do,"  responded  the  other  surlily, 
and  sending  over  a  strong  whisky  breath.  "Don't 
know  much  about  this  blamed  old  start-when-it- 
pleases  and  stop-when-you-don't-want-to  railroad. 
We'll  start  when  some  young  sardine  with  shoulder- 
straps  finishes  his  breakfast,  and  stop  when  John 
Morgan  tears  up  the  track.  If  you  didn't  feed  your 
hog's  any  better'n  this  train  runs,  old  Hayseed,  they'd 
starve  to  death  in  a  month." 

"He  ain't  jest  what  you'd  call  perlite,"  thought 
Mr.  Klegg,  as  he  meditatively  chewed  for  a  little 
while  longer.  "But  mebbe  that's  the  way  in  the 
army.  Probably  Si's  got  jest  that  way,  too." 

He  chewed  meditatively  for  a  few  minutes  longer. 
The  air  was  getting  very  redolent  of  the  fumes  from 
his  neighbor's  breath.  "I  hope  Si  ain't  got  to  drink 
ing  like  that,"  he  sighed,  as  a  particularly  strong 


DEACON    KLEGG'S   SURPRISE.  167 

whiff  reached  him.  "If  he  has,  I  won't  rest  a  minute 
till  I've  yanked  him  up  before  Gen.  Rosecrans  and 
made  him  take  the  pledge.  Gen.  Rosecrans  can't 
afford  to  have  officers  around  him  who  drink.  'Tain't 
right  to  trust  men's  lives  to  'em." 

"Say,  ole  Sorrel-top,"  said  the  soldier,  turning  to 
ward  him,  "give  us  another  bite  o'  that  terbaker  o' 
yours,  will  you?" 

Mr.  Klegg  did  not  like  the  tone  nor  the  manner, 
but  he  produced  his  tobacco,  and  began  prudently 
clipping  off  a  fair-sized  chew  for  his  companion  him 
self. 

"0,  the  devil,  that  ain't  no  chaw,"  said  the  other, 
pulling  the  tobacco  and  knife  from  his  hand.  "Don't 
be  stingy  with  your  terbaker,  old  Hawbuck.  You 
kin  git  plenty  more." 

He  sliced  a  strip  off  clear  across  the  plug,  and 
stuffed  it  into  his  mouth. 

"You  don't  chaw  terbaker.  You  jest  eat  it,"  rem 
onstrated  the  long-suffering  Mr.  Klegg. 

"Here,  I'll  take  some  o'  that,  too,"  said  another 
soldier  on  the  seat  in  front,  snatching  at  the  knife 
and  tobacco. 

"No  you  won't,  you  sardine,"  angrily  responded 
the  first  soldier.  "This  gentleman's  a  friend  o' 
mine.  I  won't  see  him  robbed." 

The  reply  was  a  blow,  and  the  two  were  soon  mixed 
up  in  a  savage  fight.  Mr.  Klegg  was  alarmed,  lest 
one  of  them  should  be  hurt  with  the  heavy,  sharp 
knife,  and  he  mixed  in  to  get  it  in  his  hand.  In  the 
scuffle  his  hat,  mittens  and  comforter  were  thrown  to 
the  floor  and  trampled  in  the  tobacco  juice.  The 
provost-guard  rushed  in,  a  stalwart  Sergeant  separ- 


168  SI  KLEGG. 

ated  the  combatants,  jammed  the  first  soldier  down 
in  the  seat  until  the  timbers  cracked,  banged  the 
other  one's  head  against  the  side  of  the  car,  and  re 
marked  : 

"Confound  you,  don't  either  o'  you  raise  a  hand 
or  open  your  mouths,  or  I'll  break  both  your  necks. 
Old  man,  you  keep  mighty  quiet,  too.  Hain't  you 
got  no  sense,  to  mix  up  in  such  a  row?  You're  old 
enough  to  know  better.  I'll  snatch  you  off  this  train 
if  you  make  any  more  disturbance." 

Mr.  Klegg's  blood  was  up.  He  wanted  to  thrash 
the  whole  crowd,  including  the  Sergeant,  and  felt 
equal  to  it.  But  the  cry  was  raised  that  the  train 
was  going.  The  Sergeant  hastened  off,  with  a  part 
ing  admonition  to  him  to  keep  still  if  he  knew  what 
was  good  for  him. 

"I'm  afeared  the  army's  a  mighty  rough  place," 
thought  Mr.  Klegg,  as  he  gathered  up  his  soiled  be 
longings  and  tried  to  straighten  them  out.  "I  won 
der  if  it'll  git  wuss  the  nearer  we  git  to  the  front?" 

The  train  pulled  out  of  Louisville,  and  he  became 
interested  in  the  great  banks  of  red  earth,  crowned 
with  surly,  black-mouthed  cannon,  where  the  forts 
were,  the  rows  of  white  tents  in  the  camps,  the  in 
numerable  droves  of  horses  and  mules  in  the  corrals, 
and  the  long  trains  of  army  wagons. 

"I'm  goin'  to  stock  up  with  some  horses  when  I  git 
back,"  he  said  to  himself.  "The  Government  seems 
to  need  a  powerful  sight  o'  them,  and  prices  is  goin' 
up  faster'n  wheat." 

Things  had  now  been  tolerably  quiet  in  the  car  for 
over  half  an  hour,  entirely  too  long  for  a  party  of 
soldiers  returning  to  the  front.  Monotonous  peace 


DEACON  KLEGG'S  SURPRISE. 


169 


was  obnoxious  to  them.    A  two-fisted  young  fellow 
up  toward  the  front  rose  up,  drained  the  last  drops 


THE  FREE  FIGHT. 


from  a  pint  flask,  dashed  the  bottle  on  the  floor, 
and  yelled: 

"Here's  for  a  quiet  life,  and  peace  and  good  will. 


170  SI  KLEGG. 

I  belong  to  John  F.  Miller's  Brigade,  the  best  bri 
gade  in  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  and  the  only 
one  that  captured  any  guns  at  Stone  River.  I  can 
lick  any  man  in  McCook's  Corps." 

The  answering  yell  that  went  up  seemed  to  indi 
cate  that  nearly  all  in  the  car  belonged  to  McCook's 
Corps.  There  was  a  general  peeling  off  of  over 
coats,  and  a  rush  forward  of  answerers  to  his  bold 
challenge.  A  few  yelled, 

"Hooray  for  Miller's  Brigade!" 

"Hooray  for  Crittenden's  Corps!" 

"Hooray  for  Pap  Thomas!" 

and  started  in  to  help  out  the  Miller  man.  Mr.  Klegg 
rose  to  his  feet  in  dismay.  Before  he  could  think 
the  soldier  beside  him  picked  up  his  carpetsack  and 
flung  it  at  the  Miller's  Brigade  man.  Mr.  Klegg 
groaned  as  he  thought  of  the  consequences  to  a  jar  of 
honey  and  a  crock  of  butter,  which  Mrs.  Klegg  had 
put  in  for  Si's  delectation. 

The  combatants  came  together  with  the  hearty  zeal 
of  men  who  had  been  looking  for  a  fight  for  a 
straight  month.  The  soldier  beside  Mr.  Klegg 
snatched  up  the  umbrella  and  began  laying  about 
him.  The  crash  was  fearful.  The  backs  of  the  seats 
were  wrenched  off,  the  carpetsack  trodden  under 
foot,  the  windows  broken  out,  and  finally  Mr.  Klegg 
found  himself  on  the  floor  of  the  car  under  a  mass 
of  struggling,  fighting,  striking  and  kicking  men. 

The  train  came  to  a  halt  at  a  station.  The  guards 
on  the  platform  rushed  in,  and  by  dint  of  a  vigorous 
use  of  gun-butts  and  other  persuasives,  and  more 
strong  language  than  Mr.  Klegg  had  ever  heard  be 
fore  in  all  his  life,  succeeded  in  quieting  the  disturb- 


DEACON    KLEGG'S   SURPRISE.  171 

ance  and  making  the  men  take  their  seats.  Mr. 
Klegg  recovered  his  carpetsack,  his  comforter,  mit 
tens,  hat  and  umbrella,  and  sat  down  again.  He 
turned  around  and  glared  at  the  soldier  by  his  side. 

"If  it  warn't  for  startin'  another  fight,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "I'd  punch  his  infernal  head." 

But  the  soldier  had  gone  to  sleep;  he  lolled  his 
head  over  in  Mr.  Klegg's  lap  and  snored  loudly. 

For  two  or  three  hours  afterward  the  train  rattled 
along  without  particular  incident.  Mr.  Klegg  recov 
ered  his  composure,  and  got  very  much  interested 
in  the  country  through  which  they  were  passing,  and 
its  farming  possibilities.  These  did  not  strike  him 
favorably,  and  he  was  more  than  ever  convinced  that 
the  Wabash  Valley  was  the  garden  spot  of  the  world. 
Finally,  the  train  stopped  and  backed  on  to  a  switch 
to  allow  another  to  pass. 

An  enterprising  man  had  put  up  a  shanty  near 
the  track,  with  a  long  shelf  in  front,  upon  which 
were  displayed  sandwiches,  pies,  boiled  eggs,  and 
other  eatables.  The  men  all  rushed  out  of  the  car. 
Mr.  Klegg  had  begun  to  feel  hungry  himself,  and 
joined  them. 

"How  much  for  that  pie?"  he  asked,  pointing  to 
one. 

,  "Half-a-dollar,"  answered  the  keeper.  "Fifty  cents 
for  pies,  25  cents  for  sandwiches,  10  cents  for  a  cup 
of  coffee." 

"Too  blamed  much,"  shouted  a  chorus  of  voices. 
"An  infernal  pirate  come  down  here  to  skin  the 
soldiers.  Let's  clean  him  out." 

Before  Mr.  Klegg  fairly  understood  the  words 
everything  was  snatched  up.  Those  who  did  not  get 


172 


SI   KLEGG. 


hold  of  any  of  the  viands  began  on  the  shed.  It  was 
torn  to  pieces,  the  stove  kicked  over,  the  coffee  spilled 
on  the  ground,  and  the  eating-house  keeper  and  his 


MR.  KLEGG  READY  FOR  ACTION. 

assistants  scuttled  away  out  of  danger.  The  whistle 
sounded,  they  all  rushed  back  into  the  cars,  and  Mr. 
Klegg  had  to  stay  his  hunger  with  another  chew  of 
tobacco. 


DEACON     KLEGG'S     SURPRISE.  173 

Again  there  was  tolerable  peace  for  several  hours, 
broken  at  last  by  the  sudden  stoppage  of  the  train 
out  in  the  country,  the  sound  of  shots,  and  the  yell 
of  "Guerrillas !  Guerrillas !" 

Everybody  bolted  out  of  the  cars.  Those  who  had 
guns  buckled  on  their  cartridge-boxes,  and  formed 
in  line,  ready  for  orders.  A  squad  of  rebel  cavalry 
had  been  trying  to  tear  up  the  track,  but  were  sur 
prised  by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  the  train. 
They  had  fallen  back  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  to  see  how 
many  were  aboard,  and  whether  it  looked  profitable 
to  make  an  attack.  They  were  keeping  up  a  desul 
tory  fire  at  long  range. 

Mr  Klegg  had  seen  a  gun  standing  in  the  corner  as 
he  ran  out.  He  picked  it  up  and  joined  one  of  the 
squads.  He  was  no  coward,  and  if  there  had  to  be 
fighting,  he  was  willing  to  do  his  share. 

"Bully  for  you,  old  Hayseed,"  said  the  man  who 
had  wanted  to  whip  any  man  in  the  right  wing  of 
the  army.  "You're  made  of  the  right  stuff,  after 
all." 

Others  around  him  nodded  approval,  and  Mr. 
Klegg  was  conscious  that  the  social  atmosphere  was 
more  pleasant  for  him. 

The  guerrillas  finally  decided  to  give  the  job  up, 
and  rode  away,  after  yelling  some  'very  uncompli 
mentary  things  about  Yankee  soldiers  generally. 

When  Mr.  Klegg  returned  to  his  seat  he  found  his 
carpetsack.  umbrella,  mittens,  and  comforter  gone. 
Likewise  the  man  who  had  been  riding  with  him.  He 
waxed  very  wroth,  and  lifted  up  his  voice  to  let  them 
know  it.  Several  around  began  to  guy  him,  but  sud 
denly  the  man  from  Miller's  Brigade  forced  his  way 
through  the  crowd  and  asked : 


174  SI  KLEGG. 

"What's  the  matter,  'Squire?" 

Mr.  Klegg  explained. 

"Well,  you've  got  to  have  every  one  of  them  things 
back  again,  if  I've  to  lick  every  man  on  the  train. 
I'll  not  see  an  old  man  and  as  good  a  man  as  you 
are  mistreated  where  I  am.  I've  got  a  father  my 
self." 

This  time  he  was  in  the  large  majority.  All  of 
McCook's  men  were  with  him.  A  general  hunt  was 
instituted  through  the  train,  and  one  by  one  his  pos 
sessions  were  recovered  and  brought  back  to  him. 

"Thankee,  gentlemen;  thankee  very  kindly.  Will 
any  o'  you  gentlemen  have  a  chaw  of  terbaker?  It's 
all  I  have  to  offer  you,  but  it's  good." 

When  the  train  pulled  into  Nashville  that  night  a 
very  tired  old  farmer  got  off  and  inquired: 

"How  much  farther  is  it  to  Murf reesboro' ?" 

"About  25  miles,"  someone  answered. 

"I'm  awful  glad  to  hear  it.  If  it  was  30  miles  I 
don't  believe  I  could  stand  it." 


CHAPTER  XV. 


DEACON    KLEGG'S   ARRIVAL — IS   MISTAKEN   FOR  A 
KNIGHT  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CIRCLE. 

4£rT^  KINGS   don't   look  so   tumultuous-like  on 

*         this  train,"  said  Mr.  Klegg,  with  a  sigh 

of  satisfaction,  as  he  seated  himself  in  the 

car  for  Murfreesboro'  and  deposited  his  valuables 

by  his  side.    "I  know  that  boys  will  be  boys,  and  I 

like  to  see  them  have  fun  just  as  well  as  any  other 

man,  but  I  must  say  that  they  made  things  on  that 

other   train   a   little   too   lively   for   a   middle-aged 

Deacon  of  the  Baptist  Church." 

A  broad-shouldered  Provost-Sergeant  walked 
through  the  car,  with  an  air  of  authority,  and  gave 
orders  to  several  who  were  seated  in  it. 

"Must  be  the  Constable,  or  Sheriff,  or  Town  Mar 
shal,"  mused  Mr.  Klegg.  "I  hope  he'll  stay  on  the 
train  till  we  reach  Murfreesboro',  and  keep  order." 

Mr.  Klegg  was  right.  The  irregularities  and  dis 
orders  of  the  "rear"  ended  at  Nashville.  There  the 
strict  discipline  of  the  "front"  began  under  the  iron 
sway  of  the  Provost-Marshal,  whose  guards  were 
everywhere,  particularly  at  the  depots  and  on  the 
cars.  The  occupants  of  the  car  were  as  orderly  as 
the  boys  at  a  country  school  when  the  master  is  on 
his  throne,  with  his  eyes  about  him. 

It  was  a  bright  day,  and  the  country  roundabout 


176  SI  KLEGG. 

of  surpassing  interest  to  the  Indiana  farmer.  He 
saw  the  domed,  stately  capitol  of  Tennessee  crown 
ing  the  highest  hill,  and  lording  a  glorious  land 
scape  of  hill  and  valley,  through  which  the  Cumber 
land  River  flowed  in  majestic  sweeps,  like  a  broad 
girdle  of  sparkling  silver.  Then  came  the  frowning 
forts,  with  beetling  banks  of  blood-red  clay,  with 
terror-striking  black  guns,  with  rugged  palisades, 
and  a  porcupine  bristle  of  abatis.  Sentries  with 
gleaming  muskets  paced  their  high  parapets.  Every 
mile,  as  far  as  he  could  see,  was  full  of  objects  of 
engrossing  interest. 

He  became  so  absorbed  in  the  feast  of  his  eyes 
that  he  did  not  observe  that  a  middle-aged,  clean 
shaven  man  in  a  suit  of  dusty  black  had  sat  down 
beside  him,  and  was  studying  him  with  attention. 

"How  do  you  do,  my  friend?"  said  he  at  length, 
putting  out  his  hand. 

Mr.  Klegg  turned  with  a  start,  and  instinctively 
put  out  his  hand. 

"Howdy,"  he  said,  with  a  tone  of  little  encourage 
ment,  for  he  would  much  rather  have  continued 
watching  the  country  than  indulge  in  purposeless 
conversation.  The  stranger  grasped  his  hand 
warmly,  and  pressed  his  thumb  upon  the  first  joint 
of  Mr.  Klegg's,  and  caught  his  little  finger  in  a 
peculiar  way.  Deacon  Klegg  had  been  initiated  into 
the  Odd  Fellows,  and  he  dimly  recognized  this  as 
a  "grip,"  but  he  could  not  associate  it  for  the  mo 
ment  with  any  of  the  degrees  of  the  brotherhood  of 
the  Three  Links. 

"Were  you  out  late  last  night,"  said  the  stranger 
in  a  low,  deeply-impressive  tone. 


DEACON  KLEGG'S  ARRIVAL.  177 

"Not  pertickerlerly,"  answered  Deacon  Klegg, 
turning  to  catch  a  view  of  the  stockade  at  La  Vergne, 
where  the  1st  Mich.  Eng.  had  made  such  a  gallant 
defense.  "I'd  a  mighty  bothersome  day,  and  was 
purty  well  tuckered  out.  I  found  a  good  place  to 
sleep,  and  I  turned  in  rather  airly.  Say,"  continued 
he,  pointing  to  the  wreckage  of  battle,  "the  boys 
seem  to  have  poked  it  to  'em  purty  lively  out  there." 

"It  was  a  very  sharp  fight,  returned  the  other; 
"but  for  once  our  friend  Wheeler  made  a  mistake, 
and  lost  heavily.  Down  the  road  farther  you'll  see 
evidences  of  his  more  successful  work  in  some  miles 
of  burnt  wagons." 

"Bad  man,  that  Gen.  Wheeler,"  said  the  Deacon, 
looking  steadfastly  out  of  the  window. 

The  stranger  looked  a  little  disappointed,  but  he 
rallied,  and  presently  gave  the  second  grand  hailing 
sign  of  the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle,  in  the 
same  low,  impressive  tone: 

"Did  you  see  a  star  last  night?" 

"Can't  say  that  I  did,"  responded  Mr.  Klegg  rather 
indifferently.  "There  was  lots  of  gas-lamps  burn 
ing,  and  I  was  rather  taken  with  them,  so  that  I 
didn't  notice  the  moon  or  stars.  Besides,  as  I  told 
you  before,  I  turned  in  purty  airly,  for  I  was  tired 
with  my  ride  from  Looyville,  and  I  wanted  to  git 
in  good  shape  for  the  trip  to-day." 

A  cloud  of  annoyance  came  upon  the  stranger's 
face,  and  he  did  not  speak  again  for  a  minute  or  two. 
Then  he  said : 

"You  are  from  Indiana,  are  you  not?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Klegg. 

"From  Posey  County?" 


178 


SI   KLEGG. 


"Yes." 

"I  knew  so.  I've  been  looking  for  you  for  several 
days." 

"Looking  for  me?"  said  Deacon  Klegg,  turning 
around  in  amazement.  "How  come  you  to  be  Jook- 


DEACON  KLEGG  AND  THE  KNIGHT  OF  THE  GOLDEN 
CIRCLE. 

in'  for  me?  What  business  have  you  got  with  me? 
How'd  you  know  I  was  a-comin'?  Nobody  knowed 
it  outside  o'  Mariar,  my  wife,  and  my  family." 


DEACON    KLEGG'S    ARRIVAL.  179 

"Come,  come,  now,"  said  the  other  impatiently. 
"Don't  try  to  play  off  on  me.  You  needn't  be 
afraid.  I'm  all  right.  I'm  Deputy  Grand  Organizer 
for  the  Knights  for  Southern  Indiana  and  the  juris 
diction  of  Louisville  generally.  You  ought  to  re 
member  me.  I  recollect  you  perfectly.  I  organized 
the  Lodges  in  Poseyville,  and  all  through  your  Coun 
ty.  I  planted  the  seed  there  for  a  big  crop  of  But 
ternuts  that'll  help  hurl  the  tyrant  Lincoln  from  his 
bloody  throne,  and  give  the  country  back  into  the 
hands  of  the  white  man.  I  got  word  that  you  were 
coming  down  with  important  information  from  your 
section  for  Gen.  Bragg  and  John  Morgan,  and  I've 
been  on  the  lookout  for  you." 

An  understanding  of  what  the  man  was,  and  what 
he  was  driving  at,  began  to  slowly  filter  into  Deacon 
Klegg's  mind,  and  his  temper  to  rise. 

"Confound  you,  you  pizen  Copperhead,"  he  said 
wrathfully.  "What  do  you  take  me  for?  Do  you 
take  me  for  a  miserable,  traitorous  Knight  o'  the 
Golden  Circle?  I'm  a  member  o'  the  church,  or  I'd 
punch  your  pizen  head.  I'm  a  loyal  man,  and  I've 
got  a  son  fightin'  for  the  Union." 

"H-u-s-h,"  said  the  unconvinced  man,  laying  his 
hand  on  the  Deacon's  arm.  "Doiv't  talk  so  loud. 
They're  watching  us." 

Klegg  shook  his  hand  off  angrily,  but  the  warn 
ing  came  too  late.  The  Provost-Sergeant  had  been 
watching  them,  at  the  instigation  of  a  sharp-eyed, 
clerkly-looking  man  in  semi-uniform. 

The  Sergeant  strode  toward  them,  followed  by  a 
soldier  with  a  gun. 

"I  arrest  you  both,"  said  he.    "You  are  men  that 


180  SI  KLEGG. 

we've  been  looking  for.  You'll  stay  right  there  in 
your  seats  till  we  get  to  Murfreesboro',  and  this 
man  '11  see  that  you  do." 

The  soldier  took  position  at  the  end  of  the  seat, 
and  dropped  the  end  of  his  musket  on  the  floor 
with  an  rve-got-my-orders-an'-I'm-going-to-stay- 
right-here  look  on  his  face. 

"You've  been  lookin'  for  me,"  gasped  Deacon 
Klegg.  "Who  else's  been  lookin'  for  me,  I'd  like  to 
know?  Is  the  whole  State  o'  Tennessee  lookin'  for 
me?  What  was  you  lookin'  for  me  for?  Think 
I've  run  away  from  Injianny  without  pay  in'  my 
debts?  Think  I  want  to  desert  my  wife  and  chil 
dren?  Young  man,  you  don't  know  Josiah  Klegg. 
I've  got  a  quarter  section  of  as  good  land  as  there 
is  in  the  Wabash  bottoms,  and  I  don't  owe  a  dollar 
on  it.  As  for  leavin'  Maria  Klegg,  I  wouldn't  do  it 
for  the  whole  State  of  Injianny.  What've  you  been 
lookin'  for  me  for,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"Old  man,  I  haven't  time  to  talk  to  you,  and  it 
ain't  my  business.  You'll  find  out  soon  enough,  when 
you  git  to  headquarters,  and  so  will  your  partner 
there." 

"My  partner,"  echoed  Deacon  Klegg.  "This  man's 
no  partner  o'  mine.  I  never  laid  eyes  on  him  till  a 
half-hour  ago." 

"Continue  your  speech  at  headquarters,"  said  the 
Sergeant,  as  he  moved  off.  "I  haven't  time  to  listen 
to  it  now.  You'd  better  save  your  breath  till  then, 
for  you'll  have  to  do  some  mighty  slick  talkin'  to 
save  your  spying  neck,  I  can  tell  you  that." 

Deacon  Klegg  sank  back  ii?  the  seat  dumfounded. 
"What  on  airth  kin  he  mean  ?"  he  gasped. 


DEACON    KLEGG'S    ARRIVAL.  181 

"It's  another  of  the  outrages  of  the  despot  Lin 
coln,"  answered  his  companion.  "It's  another  of 
the  arbitrary  arrests  by  his  military  satraps.  Lib 
erty  is  dead  in  this  country  until  we  can  overthrow 
that  nigger-loving  usurper." 

"Shut  up,"  said  the  Deacon  savagely.  "If  you 
say  another  word  I'll  mash  you.  I  won't  be  dis 
turbed  when  I'm  tryin'  to  think  things  out." 

"I  want  that  carpetsack  and  umbrella  of  yours," 
said  the  Sergeant,  coming  back.  "I've  no  doubt 
you've  got  'em  both  full  of  treasonable  documents 
and  information  for  your  rebel  friends.  Guard, 
watch  both  these  men  closely,  and  see  that  they 
don't  destroy  any  papers,  nor  throw  anything  out  the 
window." 

"Young  man,"  said  the  Deacon  resolutely,  "you 
can't  have  that  carpetsack  or  that  umbreller.  They're 
my  property.  If  you  tech  'em  I'll  have  the  law  on 
you.  I'll  sue  you  for  trespass,  larceny,  assault  and 
battery,  and  intent  to  provoke.  I  hain't  done  nothin' 
to  justify  it.  I'm  Josiah  Klegg,  of  Posey  County, 
injianny,  Deacon  in  the  Ebenezer  Church,  on  Mill 
Crick.  I'm  goin'  down  to  Murfreesboro'  to  visit 
my  son,  Josiah  Klegg,  jr.,  o'  the  200th  Injianny 
Volunteers.  You  all  know  him.  He's  an  officer ;  he's 
the  boy  that  tried  to  git  a  commissary  wagon  away 
from  the  rebels  durin'  the  battle,  and  he  and 
Shorty  Ve  got  a  house  with  a  tin  roof." 

The  other  occupants  gathered  around  and  laughed 
derisively. 

"Twon't  do,  old  man,"  said  the  Sergeant,  trying  to 
wrest  the  carpetsack  away.  "You  tell  a  pretty 
story,  and  you're  well  disguised,  but  we're  onto  you. 


182  SI  KLEGG. 

We  got  full  particulars  about  you  from  Louisville. 
You're  a  bad  lot  down  there  in  Posey  County.  There's 
a  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle  Lodge  under  every 
sycamore.  You'd  be  at  Gen.  Bragg's  headquarters 
to-morrow  night  if  we  let  you  alone." 

He  pulled  hard  at  the  carpetsack,  and  Deacon 
Klegg  resisted  with  all  his  sturdy  might.  His 
strength  was  quite  a  match  for  the  Sergeant's,  but 
other  soldiers  came  to  help  the  latter.  The  handles 
came  off  in  the  struggle,  and  the  Deacon  was 
forced  down  into  his  seat.  The  other  man  took  ad 
vantage  of  the  confusion  to  work  his  way  through 
the  crowd  to  the  door  and  jump  off.  This  angered 
the  Sergeant,  and  coming  back  to  where  Mr.  Klegg 
sat,  exhausted  and  intensely  mad,  he  said : 

"I'll  make  sure  that  you  don't  get  away,  anyhow. 
I  ought  to've  done  this  at  first." 

So  saying,  he  snapped  a  hand-cuff  over  Mr. 
Klegg's  wrist  and  then  over  the  arm  of  the  seat. 

The  Deacon  was  never  so  humiliated  in  his  life. 
He  was  simply  speechless  in  his  rage  and  mortifica 
tion. 


Among  the  many  of  Gen.  Rosecrans's  eccentricities 
and  vagrant  fancies  was  one  for  prowling  around 
through  his  camps  at  night,  wearing  a  private's 
overcoat  and  cap.  One  night  he  strolled  into  the 
camp  of  the  200th  Ind.  The  superior  architecture 
of  Si  and  Shorty's  cabin  struck  him,  and  he  decided 
to  look  inside.  He  knocked  on  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  shouted  Si. 


DEACON    KLEGG'S    ARRIVAL.  183 

He  entered,  and  found  Si  engaged  with  Tom  Bil 
lings  in  a  game  of  checkers  for  the  championship 
of  the  200th  Ind.  Shorty  was  watching  the  game 
intently,  as  Si's  counselor,  and  Zeke  Tomkins  was 
giving  like  assistance  to  Tom  Billings.  Two  other 
crack  players  were  acting  as  umpires.  The  light 
from  the  fire  shone  brightly  upon  them,  but  left  the 
front  of  the  room,  where  the  General  stood,  in  com 
plete  darkness.  They  were  so  absorbed  in  the  game 
that  they  merely  looked  up,  saw  that  the  newcomer 
was  a  private  soldier,  and  supposed  that  he  had 
merely  dropped  in  to  watch  the  game. 

"Did  you  clean  your  feet  on  the  bayonet  outside 
the  door?"  demanded  Shorty,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes 
again  on  the  red  and  white  grains  of  corn,  which 
represented  the  men  on  the  board. 

"No,  I  forgot,"  said  the  General  quietly. 
"Well,  go  right  outside  and  clean  'em  off,"  ordered 
Shorty.    "Don't  want  no  mud  tracked  in  here  for  us 
to  carry  out  agin." 

The  General,  much  amused,  went  out,  carefully 
scraped  his  boots,  and  then  returned. 

"All  right,"  said  Shorty,  looking  up  as  he  re- 
entered.  "Now  look  all  you  like,  but  don't  say 
nothin'.  Nobody  s  allowed  to  say  a  word  but  the 
players  and  the  umpires." 

The  game  proceeded  in  silence  for  several  min 
utes,  and  the  General  became  much  interested.  It 
was  one  of  his  peculiarities  that  he  could  not  help 
getting  interested  in  anything  that  his  soldiers  were 
doing,  from  the  boiling  of  a  cup  of  coffee  or  the 
pitching  of  a  tent  to  the  alignment  of  a  company. 
Si  was  getting  a  little  the  better  of  Billings,  and 


184 


SI   KLEGG. 


che  General's  sympathies  naturally  went  toward  the 
loser.  He  touched  Billings  on  the  shoulder,  as  he 
was  about  to  make  a  move,  and  said: 


THE  GENERAL  INTERRUPTS  THE  GAME. 


"Don't   do   that.      You'll   open   your   king   row. 

Move" 

Shorty  was  alert  on  the  instant. 

"Shut  up,"  he  commanded.     "You've  no  business 


DEACON    KLEGG'S    ARRIVAL.  185 

talkin';  I  told  you  when  you  come  in  you  weren't 
allowed  to  say  nothin'." 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  General;  "I  quite  forgot." 

"Well,  see  that  you  don't  forgit  agin,"  growled 
Shorty.  "We've  got  quite  enough  talent  in  the  game 
already.  We  don't  want  no  more  to  come  in." 

Again  the  game  proceeded  in  intent  silence  for 
some  minutes.  Then  Si  called  out: 

"Hold  on;  you  can't  jump  backwards  with  that 
man.  That  ain't  no  king." 

"I  say  it  is  a  king,"  said  Billings.  "I  got  him  into 
the  row  half  an  hour  ago,  and  crowned  him.  You 
knocked  the  crown  off  when  you  moved." 

"I  know  better,"  said  Shorty.  "I've  been  watch 
ing  that  piece  right  along,  and  he's  never  been 
nearer  the  king-row  than  he  is  this  minute." 

A  hot  discussion  ensued.  The  General  forgot  him 
self  and  joined  in  in  his  usual  positive,  authorita 
tive  way. 

"I  say  the  man  had  been  crowned.  I  saw  him 
crowned  and  the  crown  afterward  knocked  off. 
There's  the  crown  by  the  side  there." 

Shorty's  wrath  rose.  "I  told  you  when  you  come 
in  here,"  he  said  sharply,  "not  to  mix  into  this 
game.  You've  got  no  business  in  it.  Keep  your 
advice  till  it's  asked  for,  or  git  out  o'  the  tent.  If 
you  don't  git  out  I'll  put  you  out." 

"Be  careful,  my  man,"  said  the  General,  speaking 
in  his  usual  way.  "You  are  talking  to  an  officer." 

"I  don't  care  if  you  are  a  Lieutenant  or  a  Cap 
tain,  even,"  Si  chimed  in;  "you  have  no  business 
mixing  in  a  quiet  little  game  o'  checkers  between 
enlisted  men." 


186  SI  KLEGG. 

"I  am  more  than  a  Captain,"  said  the  General, 
opening  his  overcoat  slightly,  to  show  his  double 
dow  of  buttons. 

"Bern'  a  Major  or  a  Colonel  don't  make  it  much 
better,"  said  Si,  obdurately,  but  with  much  more  re 
spect. 

"I'm  higher  than  a  Colonel,"  said  the  General, 
amusedly,  and  opening  his  overcoat  a  little  farther. 

"Excuse  us,  General,"  they  all  murmured,  rising 
to  their  feet,  and  taking  the  position  of  a  soldier. 

"You  don't  command  our  brigade,  do  you?"  said 
Shorty,  trying  to  get  a  better  view  of  his  face. 

"I  command  this  brigade,  and  several  others," 
said  the  General,  smilingly  enjoying  their  confusion. 

"Lord,  a  Major-General  commanding  a  corps," 
gasped  Shorty,  backing  up  with  the  rest  into  line, 
and  saluting  with  the  profoundest  respect. 

"Still  higher,"  laughed  the  General,  stepping  for 
ward  to  where  the  light  fell  full  on  his  face.  "I'm 
Maj.-Gen.  Rosecrans,  commanding  this  army.  But 
don't  be  disturbed.  You've  done  nothing.  You  are 
all  entitled  to  your  opinions,  as  free  American  citi 
zens;  but  I  will  insist  that  that  man  had  been  in 
the  king  row,  and  should  be  crowned.  But  you 
settle  that  among  yourselves. 

"I  merely  dropped  in  to  compliment  you  on  the 
skill  you  have  shown  in  building  your  house  and  its 
comfort.  I'm  glad  to  find  that  it  looks  even  better 
inside  than  out.  I  know  that  you  are  good  soldiers 
from  the  way  you  take  care  of  yourselves.  But  so 
fine  a  house  ought  to  have  a  better  checker-board 
than  a  barrel-head,  with  grains  of  corn  for  men. 
Who  are  the  owners  of  the  house?" 


DEACON  KLEGG'S  ARRIVAL.  187 

"Me  and  him,"  said  Shorty,  indicating  himself 
and  Si. 

"Very  good,"  said  the  General;  "both  of  you  re 
port  at  my  Headquarters  to-morrow  morning  at  10 
o'clock.  Good  night." 

"Three  cheers  and  a  tiger  for  Old  Rosey,"  yelled 
Shorty  as  soon  as  he  could  get  his  scattered  wits 
together  enough  to  say  a  word. 

They  gave  three  such  rousing  cheers  that  the  rest 
of  Co.  Q  came  running  out  of  their  tents,  and  joined 
in  cheering,  as  fast  as  the  news  could  be  communi 
cated  to  them. 


The  next  morning  a  squad  of  prisoners  was  being 
conducted  toward  Army  Headquarters.  At  their 
head  walked  a  stout,  middle-aged  farmer,  carrying 
a  portly  blue  umbrella.  He  had  spent  the  night 
among  the  riotous  spirits  in  the  guard-house,  and 
had  evidently  undergone  much  wear  and  tear.  He 
looked  as  if  things  had  not  been  going  his  way  at 
all.  By  him  marched  the  stalwart  Provost-Sergeant, 
with  a  heavy  striped  carpetsack  under  his  arm. 

Gen.  Rosecrans  rode  up  at  the  head  of  his  staff, 
from  an  early  morning  inspection  of  some  part  of 
the  camp.  The  men  saluted  and  cheered. 

"Whom  have  you  here,  Sergeant?"  said  the  Gen 
eral,  reining  up  his  horse  beside  the  squad. 

"That's  Gen.  Rosecrans,"  said  one  of  the  guards 
to  Deacon  Klegg. 

"Nobody  of  importance,"  replied  the  Sergeant, 
"except  this  old  man  here.  He's  a  Knight  of  the 


188  SI  KLEGG. 

Golden  Circle,  that  we've  been  watching  for  for 
some  time,  going  through  with  information  and 
other  things  from  the  Knights  of  Indiana  to  the 
enemy  in  Tullahoma.  I've  got  his  carpetsack  here. 
I  expect  it's  full  of  papers  and  contraband  stuff.  It 
feels  as  if  it  had  lead  in  it.  I  am  taking  him  to 
the  Provost-Marshal's  for  examination." 

He  set  the  heavy  carpetsack  down  on  the  ground, 
to  rest  for  a  minute. 

"Gen.  Rosecrans,  it's  all  a  plaguey  lie,"  burst  out 
Deacon  Klegg.  "I'm  as  loyal  a  man  as  there  is  in 
the  State  of  Injianny.  I  voted  for  Abe  Lincoln  and 
Oliver  P.  Morton.  I've  come  down  here  to  visit  my 
son,  Josiah  Klegg,  jr.,  of  the  200th  Injianny  Vol 
unteers.  You  know  him,  General.  He's  one  o'  your 
officers.  He's  a  Corporal.  He's  the  boy  that  tried 
to  take  a  commissary  wagon  away  from  the  rebels 
durin'  the  battle,  and  he's  got  a  house  with  a  tin 
roof.  You  recollect  that,  don't  you?" 

Some  of  the  staff  laughed  loudly,  but  the  General 
checked  them  with  a  look,  and  spoke  encouragingly 
to  the  Deacon. 

"Yes,  General,"  continued  Mr.  Klegg,  "I  knowed 
you'd  know  all  about  him  the  minit  I  mentioned  him 
to  you.  I  told  this  over  and  over  agin  to  these 
plaguey  fools,  but  they  wouldn't  believe  me.  As 
to  that  carpetsack  havin'  things  for  the  enemy,  it's 
the  biggest  lie  that  ever  was  told.  I'll  open  it  right 
here  before  you  to  show  you.  I've  only  got  some 
things  that  my  wife  and  the  girls  was  sendin  to  Si." 

He  fumbled  around  for  his  keys. 

"Possibly  you  have  made  a  mistake,  Sergeant," 
said  the  General.  "What  evidence  have  you  ?" 


DEACON    KLEGG'S  ARRIVAL. 


189 


"We'd  got  word  to  look  out  for  just  such  a  man, 
who'd  play  off  the  dodge  of  being  an  old  plug  of  a 
farmer  on  a  visit  to  his  son. 


MEETING   BETWEEN   SI   AND    HIS   FATHER. 

"He  was  on  the  train  with  a  man  whom  all  the 
detectives  know  as  one  of  the  worst  Knights  in  the 
gang.  They  were  talking  together  all  the  way.  I 


190  SI  KLEGG. 

arrested  the  other  one,  too,  but  he  slipped  away  in 
the  row  this  man  made  to  distract  our  attention." 

In  the  meantime  Deacon  Klegg  had  gotten  his 
carpetsack  open  for  the  General's  inspection.  It  was 
a  sorry  sight  inside.  Butter,  honey,  shirts,  socks, 
boots,  and  cakes  are  excellent  things  taken  separ 
ately,  but  make  a  bad  mixture.  Deacon  Klegg 
looked  very  dejected.  The  rest  grinned  broadly. 

"I  don't  seem  to  see  anything  treasonable  so  far," 
said  the  General.  "Sergeant,  take  the  rest  of  your 
prisoners  up  to  the  Provost-Marshal,  and  leave  this 
man  with  me." 

"Gen.  Rosecrans,"  said  a  familiar  voice,  "you  or 
dered  us  to  report  to  you  this  mornin'  at  10  o'clock. 
We're  here." 

The  General  looked  up  and  saw  Corporal  Si  Klegg 
and  Shorty  standing  at  a  "salute." 

"Si!"  said  the  Deacon,  joyously,  sticking  out  a 
hand  badly  smeared  with  honey  and  butter. 

"Pap!"  shouted  the  Corporal,  taking  the  hand  in 
rapture.  "How  in  the  world  did  you  git  down  here  ?" 

They  all  laughed  now,  and  the  General  did  not 
check  them. 

"Corporal,"  said  he,  "I  turn  this  man  over  to  you. 
I'll  hold  you  responsible  that  he  don't  communicate 
with  the  enemy.  But  come  on  up  to  Headquarters 
and  get  your  checker-board.  I  have  a  very  nice 
one  for  you." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


IN  A  NEW  WORLD  —  DEACON  KLEGG  HAS  A  LITTLE 
EXPERIENCE  OF  LIFE  IN  THE  ARMY. 


,"  said  Si,  by  way  of  introduction,  "this 
is  Shorty,  my  pardner,  and  the  best  pard- 
ner  a  feller  ever  had,  and  the  best  soldier 
in  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland." 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Klegg,"  said  Shorty,  red 
dening  and  grasping  the  father's  outstretched  hand  ; 
"but  you  orter  've  broke  that  boy  o'  your'n  o'  lyin' 
when  he  was  young." 

"He  never  did  lie,"  said  the  Deacon  cheerfully, 
"and  I  don't  believe  he's  lyin'  now.  I've  heard  a 
great  deal  o'  you,  Mr.  Shorty,  and  I'm  sure  he's 
tellin'  the  truth  about  you." 

"Drop  the  Mister,  Pap,"  said  Si.  "We  never  call 
each  other  Mister  here,  except  when  we're  mad." 

Si  took  the  carpetsack  under  his  arm,  and  they 
trudged  up  toward  Army  Headquarters. 

Relieved  of  anxiety  as  to  his  own  personal  safety, 
and  having  found  his  son,  Deacon  Klegg  viewed 
everything  around  him  with  open-eyed  interest.  It 
was  a  wonderfully  new  and  strange  world  into  which 
the  sober,  plodding  Indiana  farmer  had  dropped. 
The  men  around  him  spoke  the  speech  to  which  his 
ears  were  accustomed,  but  otherwise  they  were  as 
foreign  as  if  they  had  come  from  the  heart  of  China. 


192  SI  KLEGG. 

Their  dress,  their  manners,  their  actions,  the  ways 
in  which  they  were  busying  themselves,  had  no  re 
semblance  to  anything  seen  on  the  prosaic  plains  of 
the  Wabash  in  his  half-century  of  life  there.  The 
infantry  sweeping  over  the  fields  in  endless  waves, 
the  dashing  cavalcades  of  officers  and  staffs,  the 
bewildering  whirl  of  light  batteries  dazed  him.  Even 
Si  awed  him.  It  was  hard  to  recognize  in  the 
broad-shouldered,  self-assured  young  soldier,  who 
seemed  so  entirely  at  home  in  his  startling  surround 
ings,  the  blundering,  bashful  hobbledehoy  boy  of 
a  few  months  before,  whose  feet  and  hands  were 
constantly  in  the  way,  and  into  everything  else  that 
they  should  not  be. 

"Somehow,  Si,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  offspring 
with  contemplative  eye,  "you  seem  to  have  growed 
like  a  cornstalk  in  July,  and  yit  when  I  come  to 
measure  you  you  don't  seem  no  taller  nor  heavier 
than  when  you  went  away.  How  is  it?" 

"Don't  know,  Pap,"  Si  answered.  "I  feel  as  if  I'd 
had  more'n  10  long  years  o'  growth  since  we  crossed 
the  Ohio  Eiver.  Yit,  you  don't  seem  a  minute  older 
than  when  I  went  away." 

"I  didn't  feel  no  older,"  returned  the  father,  "until 
I  got  in  that  guard-house  last  night.  Then  I  could 
feel  my  hair  gittin'  grayer  every  hour,  and  my  teeth 
droppin'  out." 

"I'm  afraid  you  didn't  git  much  chance  to  sleep, 
Pap,"  said  Si  sympathetically. 

"Loss  o'  sleep  was  the  least  part  of  it,"  said  the 
Deacon  feelingly.  "I  kin  stand  a  little  loss  o'  sleep 
without  any  partickler  bother.  It  wasn't  bein'  kept 
awake  so  much  as  the  way  I  was  kept  awake  that 
bore  on  me." 


IN    A    NEW    WORLD.  193 

"Why,  what  happened?"  asked  Si. 

"Better  ask  what  didn't  happen,"  groaned  his 
father.  "Used  to  have  some  mighty  rough  shivarees 
when  I  was  a  boy,  and'd  jest  settled  on  the  Wabash. 
Lots  o'  toughs  then,  'specially  'mong  the  flatboat- 
men,  who'd  nothin'  to  drink  but  new  sod-corn 
whisky,  that'd  fight  in  every  spoonful.  But  for  sure, 
straight-out  tumultuousness  that  guard-house  last 
night  gave  six  pecks  for  every  bushel  of  a  Wabash 
shivaree." 

Shorty  looked  meaningly  at  Si.  "Guard-house  fel- 
lers's  likely  to  be  a  ructionary  lot  o'  roosters.  Awful 
sorry  you  got  in  among  'em.  Was  they  very  bad?" 

"Well,  I  should  say.  When  I  was  chucked  in  they 
wuz  havin'  a  regular  prize  fight,  'cordin'  to  rules,  as 
to  whether  Rousseau  or  Negley  wuz  the  best  General. 
The  Rousseau  man  got  licked,  and  then  the  other 
Rousseau  men  wuzzent  satisfied,  and  proposed  to  lick 
all  the  Negley  men  in  the  guard-house;  but  the 
Sheridan  men  interfered,  and  made  the  Rousseau 
men  cool  down.  They  they  turned  their  attention 
to  me.  They  raised  a  row  about  a  citizen  being 
put  in  among  them.  It  was  a  disgrace.  The  guard 
house  was  only  intended  for  soldiers  and  gentlemen, 
and  no  place  for  condemned  civilians.  Then  some 
one  said  that  I  had  been  arrested  as  a  Knight  o' 
the  Golden  Circle,  on  my  way  to  Bragg,  with  infor 
mation  from  the  Injianny  Knights.  Another  in 
sisted  that  he  knowed  me,  and  that  I  wuz  Vallandig- 
ham  himself,  brought  down  there  to  be  sent  through 
the  lines.  Then  I  thought  sure  they'd  kill  me  on  the 
spot.  I  begged  and  pled  and  denied.  Finally,  they 
organized  a  court-martial  to  try  me  for  my  life. 


194  SI   KLEGG. 

They  had  an  awful  tonguey  feller  that  acted  as 
Prosecutin'  Attorney,  and  the  way  he  blackguarded 
me  was  a  shame.  He  said  the  word  'traitor'  was  wrote 
in  every  liniment  o'  my  face;  that  I  wuz  a  dyed-in- 
the-wool  butternut,  and  that  the  bag  I'd  brung  along 
with  me  contained  the  muster-rolls  of  100,000  In- 
jiannians  who'd  bin  swore  in  to  fight  for  Jeff  Davis. 

"The  feller  that  they  appinted  to  defend  me  ad 
mitted  the  truth  of  all  that  the  other  feller'd  said. 
He  said  that  no  one  could  look  in  my  Southern  In- 
jianny  face  without  seem'  Secession,  treason  and 
nigger-lovin'  wrote  there  in  big  letters.  He  could 
only  ask  the  honorable  court  for  mercy  instid  o' 
justice,  and  that  I  be  shot  instid  o'  hung,  as  I  de 
served. 

"When  they  asked  me  what  I'd  got  to  say  in  my 
own  defense  I  told  'em  the  truth,  and  said  that  I'd 
come  down  here  to  visit  my  son,  who  they  all 
knowed — they  must  know  Si  Klegg.  o'  the  200th  In- 
jianny  Voltuneers,  who  was  an  officer,  and  had  a 
house  with  a  tin  roof. 

"Then  they  all  got  up  and  yelled.  They  said 
they  knowed  Si  Klegg  only  too  well;  that  he  wuz 
the  meanest,  oneriest  soljer  in  the  army,  and  that 
he  looked  just  like  me.  They  had  him  in  the  guard 
house  now.  He'd  bin  put  in  for  stealin'  a  hoe-cake 
from  a  blind  nigger  half-way  back  to  Nashville 
durin'  the  battle. 

"They  brought  up  the  dirtiest,  scaliest  lookin'  man 
in  the  guard-house,  and  said  that  was  Si  Klegg, 
and  that  he  resembled  me  so  much  that  they  wuz 
sure  he  wuz  my  son.  They  asked  him  if  he  recker- 
nized  me  as  his  dad,  and  after  they  kicked  him  two 


IN    A    NEW    WORLD.  195 

or  three  times  he  said  he  did,  but  he  wuz  goin'  to 
cut  his  throat  now,  since  they'd  found  it  out.  He 
couldn't  stand  everything.  Then  they  said  they'd 
postpone  execution  on  condition  that  I'd  kneel  down, 
drink  a  pint  o'  whisky,  take  the  oath  o'  allegiance 
to  Abe  Lincoln,  and  sing  'We'll  hang  Jeff  Davis 
on  a  sour-apple  tree.' 

"I  told  'em  I  wuz  perfectly  willin'  to  take  the  oath 
to  Abe  Lincoln  as  often  as  they  pleased;  that  he 
wuz  my  man  from  start  to  finish ;  that  I  wanted  Jeff 
Davis  hung  the  minit  we  ketched  him.  I'd  sing  the 
song  if  they'd  learn  it  to  me,  though  I've  not  sung 
anything  but  hymns  for  the  last  25  years.  As  for 
the  whisky,  I  wouldn't  tech  it  on  no  account,  for  1 
belonged  to  the  Good  Templars. 

"They  all  seemed  pacified  with  this  except  one 
man,  who  insisted  that  I  should  drink  the  whisky. 
One  o'  the  Sheridan  men  knocked  him  down,  and 
then  the  fight  between  the  Rousseau  men  and  the 
Negley  men  broke  out  afresh,  and  the  guard  come 
in  and  quieted  things.  By  the  time  they'd  done  this 
they  found  that  the  man  who  had  reckernized  me  as 
his  father  wuz  tryin'  to  hang  himself  with  a  piece 
o'  tent-rope.  They  cut  him  down,  larruped  him  with 
the  tent-rope,  and  then  started  another  court  to 
try  me  for  havin'  sich  a  son.  But  some  officer 
come  in  and  took  out  the  Prosecutin'  Attorney  and 
the  lawyer  for  the  defense  and  the  Presidin'  Judge 
and  bucked  and  gagged  'em.  This  cooled  things  down 
agin  till  morninV 

"We  might  walk  over  to  the  Provost-Marshal's," 
suggested  Shorty,  "and  watch  for  them  fellers  as 
they  come  out,  and  take  a  drop  out  o'  some  of  'em." 


196 


SI  KLEGG. 


"It'll  be  a  waste  o'  time,"  said  Si,  with  a  shrug  of 
his  shoulders.  "They'll  all  be  doing  hard  labor  for 
the  next  30  days,  and  by  that  time  we'll  likely  have 
a  good  deal  else  to  think  about.  Let's  report  at 


"HIS  HONOR     AND  THE  'ATTORNEY"  BUCKED  AND 
GAGGED. 

Headquarters,  and  then  take  Dad  over  and  show 
him  our  new  house." 

"Yes,  I'm  dying  to  see  it,"  said  the  Deacon,  "and 


IN    A    NEW    WORLD.  197 

to  git  somewhere  that  I  kin  sit  down  in  peace  and 
quietness.  Seems  to  me  I  haven't  had  a  moment's 
rest  for  years,  and  I'm  as  nigh  tuckered  out  as  I 
ever  wuz  in  my  life." 

At  the  Army  Headquarters  was  a  crowd  of 
officers,  mounted  and  dismounted.  Aids  were  arriv 
ing  and  departing,  and  there  was  a  furore  when 
some  General  commanding  a  corps  or  division  came 
or  went,  which  impressed  the  father  greatly.  Si  and 
Shorty  stood  at  "attention,"  and  respectfully  saluted 
as  the  officers  passed,  and  the  Deacon  tried  awk 
wardly,  but  his  best,  to  imitate  their  example.  Two 
or  three  spruce  young  Orderlies  attempted  to  guy 
him.  but  this  thing  came  to  a  sudden  stop  when 
Shorty  took  one  of  them  quietly  by  the  ear,  and 
said  in  a  low  voice: 

"Don't  be  brash,  bub.  If  you  only  knowed  it, 
you're  givin'  your  measure  for  a  first-class,  custom- 
made  lickin',  and  I'm  the  artist  to  do  the  job.  That 
old  man's  my  chum's  father,  and  I  won't  allow  no 
funny  business  'round  where  I  am." 

"We  wuz  ordered  to  report  to  Gen.  Rosecrans," 
said  Si  to  the  Orderly  on  duty  before  the  tent. 

"What  are  you  to  report  for?"  asked  a  member 
of  the  staff,  standing  near.  "The  General  is  very 
busy  now,  and  can  see  no  one.  Who  ordered  you  to 
report?" 

"The  General  himself,"  said  Si. 

The  sound  of  his  voice  reached  Gen.  Rosecrans,  in 
side,  and  busy  as  he  was,  arrested  his  attention. 
With  the  kindly  thoughtfulness  that  so  endeared  him 
to  his  soldiers  he  instantly  remembered  his  promise, 
dropped  his  pen,  and  came  to  the  door. 


SI  KLEGG. 


"I  ordered  these  men  to  report,"  he  said  to  the 
Aid.  "Bring  me  that  checker-board  which  lies  on 
my  table." 


SHORTY  ADMONISHES  THE   ORDERLY. 


The  Aid  did  so.  Gen.  Rosecrans  noticed  the 
father,  and,  as  usual,  saw  the  opportunity  of  doing 
a  kindly,  gracious  thing. 

"You  have  found  your  son,  I  see,"  he  said  to  him. 
"Sorry  that  you  had  so  much  trouble.  That's  a 
fine  son  you  have.  One  of  the  very  best  soldiers  in 


IN    A     NEW     WORLD.  199 

my  army.  I  congratulate  you  upon  him.  Boys, 
here  is  your  board  and  men.  I  may  drop  in  some 
evening  and  see  you  play  a  game.  I'll  be  careful 
to  clean  my  feet,  this  time." 

Si  and  Shorty  got  very  red  in  the  face  at  this  allu 
sion,  and  began  to  stammer  excuses.  The  General 
playfully  pinched  Si's  ear  and  said: 

"Go  to  your  quarters  now,  you  young  rascal,  and 
take  your  father  with  you.  I  hope  he'll  have  a  very 
pleasant  time  while  he  is  in  camp." 

They  saluted  and  turned  away  too  full  for  utter 
ance.  After  they  had  gone  a  little  distance  the  Dea 
con  remarked,  as  if  communing  with  himself : 

"And  that  is  Gen.  Rosecrans.  Awful  nice  man. 
Nicest  man  I  ever  saw.  Greatest  General  in  the 
world.  Won't  this  be  something  to  tell  Mariar  and 
the  girls.  And  the  men  down  at  the  store.  I'd  've 
come  down  here  40  times  jest  to  've  seen  him  and 
talked  with  him.  What'd  last  night  in  the  guard 
house  amount  to,  after  all?  A  man  must  expect 
some  trouble  occasionally.  Wouldn't  have  no  fun  if 
he  didn't.  Say,  Si,  remember  Old  Susy's  chestnut 
colt?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Si. 

"I  thought  he  had  in  him  the  makin'  o'  the 
finest  horse  in  Posey  County." 

"Yes,"  said  Si. 

"Well,  he's  turnin'  out  even  better'n  I  thought  he 
would.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  he  could  trot  down 
somewhere  nigh  2  :40." 

"You  don't  say  so." 

"Yes,  indeed.  You  used  to  want  that  colt  mighty 
bad,  Si." 


200 


SI  KLEGG. 


"I  remember  that  I  did,  Pap." 

"Well,  Si,  I'll  give  you  that  colt,  and  take  good 
care  o'  him  till  you  come  home,  for  that  'ere  checker 
board." 

When  they  arrived  at  their  house  Si  and  Shorty 


SHORTY   ADMIRES    SIS    SHIRT 


arranged  the  things  so  as  to  give  the  Deacon  a  most 
comfortable  rest  after  his  trying  experiences,  and 
cooked  him  the  best  dinner  their  larder  would  afford. 
After  dinner  they  filled  him  a  pipe-full  of  kinni- 
kinnick,  and  the  old  gentleman  sat  down  to  enjoy 


IN    A    NEW    WORLD.  201 

it  while  Si  and  Shorty  investigated  the  contents  of 
the  carpetsack.  They  found  endless  fun  in  its  woful 
condition.  The  butter  and  honey  were  smeared  over 
everything,  in  the  rough  handling  which  it  had  en 
dured.  They  pulled  out  the  shirt,  the  socks,  the 
boots,  the  paper  and  books,  and  scraped  off  carefully 
as  much  as  they  could  of  the  precious  honey  and 
butter. 

"It's  too  good  to  waste  the  least  bit,"  said  Shorty, 
tasting  it  from  time  to  time  with  unction.  "Don't 
mind  a  hair  or  two  in  the  butter,  this  time,  Si.  I 
kin  believe  your  mother  is  a  good  buttermaker.  It's 
the  best  I  ever  tasted." 

"Well,  the  butter  and  the  honey  may  be  spiled," 
said  Si,  "but  the  other  things  are  all  right.  My, 
ain't  this  a  nice  shirt.  And  them  socks.  Shorty, 
did  you  ever  see  such  socks.  Ever  so  much  obliged 
to  you,  Pap,  for  these  boots.  Old  Hank  Sommers's 
make.  He's  the  best  shoemaker  in  the  State  of  In- 
jianny.  No  Quartermaster's  cowhide  about  them. 
And" 

Si  stopped.  He  had  suddenly  come  across  Anna 
bel's  ambrotype.  He  tried  to  slip  it  into  his  pocket 
without  the  others  seeing  him.  He  edged  awkwardly 
to  the  door. 

"You  look  over  the  rest  o'  the  things,  Shorty,"  he 
said,  with  a  blush  that  hid  his  freckles.  "I've  got  to 
go  down  and  see  the  Orderly-Sergeant." 

Shorty  and  the  Deacon  exchanged  very  profound 
winks. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  DEACON'S  INITIATION — RAPIDLY  ACQUIRES  EX 
PERIENCE  OF  LIFE  IN  THE  ARMY. 

SI  ASKED  questions  of  his  father  about  the 
folks  at  home  and  the  farm  until  the  old 
gentleman's  head  ached,  and  he  finally  fell 
asleep  through  sheer  exhaustion. 

The  next  day  the  Deacon  took  a  comprehensive 
survey  of  the  house,  and  was  loud  in  his  praises  of 
Si  and  Shorty's  architecture. 

"Beats  the  cabin  I  had  to  take  your  mother  to,  Si, 
when  I  married  her,"  he  said  with  a  retrospective 
look  in  his  eye,  "though  I'd  got  up  a  sight  better  one 
than  many  o'  the  boys  on  the  Wabash.  Lays  a  way 
over  the  one  that  Abe  Lincoln's  father  put  up  on 
Pigeon  Crick,  over  in  Spencer  County,  and  where 
he  brung  the  Widder  Johnston  when  he  married  her. 
I  remember  it  well.  About  the  measliest  shack  there 
wuz  in  the  country.  Tom  Lincoln,  Abe's  father,  wuz 
about  as  lazy  as  you  make  'em.  They  say  nothin' 
will  cure  laziness  in  a  man,  but  a  second  wife  '11 
shake  it  up  awfully.  The  Widder  Johnston  had 
lots  o'  git  up  in  her,  but  she  found  Tom  Lincoln 
a  dead  load.  Abe  wuz  made  o'  different  stuff." 

"Yes,"  continued  the  father,  growing  reminiscen- 
tial.  "There  wuz  no  tin  roof,  sawed  boards,  glass 
winder  nor  plank  floor  in  that  little  shack  on  the 


THE    DEACON'S    INITIATION.  203 

Wabash,  but  some  o'  the  happiest  days  in  my  life 
wuz  spent  in  it.  Me  and  your  mother  wuz  both 
young,  both  very  much  in  love,  both  chock  full 
o'  hope  and  hard  day's  work.  By  the  time  you  wuz 
born,  Si,  we'd  got  the  farm  and  the  house  in  much 
better  shape,  but  they  wuz  fur  from  being  what 
they  are  to-day." 

"If  we  only  had  a  deed  for  a  quarter  section  o' 
land  around  our  house  we'd  be  purty  well  started 
in  life  for  young  men,"  ventured  Si. 

"I'd  want  it  a  heap  sight  better  land  than  this  is 
'round  here,"  said  the  Deacon,  studying  the  land 
scape  judicially.  "Most  of  it  that  I've  seen  so  far 
is  like  self-righteousness — the  more  a  man  has  the 
worse  he's  off.  Mebbe  it'll  raise  white  beans,  but 
I  don't  know  o'  nothin'  else,  except  niggers  and 
poverty.  The  man  that'd  stay  'round  here,  scratchin' 
these  clay  knobs,  when  there's  no  law  agin  him 
goin'  to  Injianny  or  Illinoy,  hain't  gumption  enough 
to  be  anything  but  a  rebel.  That's  my  private  opin 
ion  publicly  expressed." 

"Pap,"  said  Si,  after  his  father  had  been  a  day  in 
camp,  "I  think  we've  done  fairly  well  in  providin' 
you  with  a  house  and  a  bed,  but  I'm  afeared  that 
our  cookin's  not  quite  up  to  your  taste.  You  see, 
you've  bin  badly  pampered  by  mother.  I  might 
say  that  she's  forever  spiled  you  for  plain  grub  and 
common  cookin'." 

"Your  mother's  the  best  cook  that  ever  lived  or 
breathed,"  said  the  Deacon  earnestly.  "She  kin 
make  plain  cornbread  taste  better  than  anybody 
else's  pound  cake.  But  you  do  well,  Si,  considerin' 
that  your  mother  could  never  git  you  to  do  so  much 


204  SI  KLEGG. 

as  help  peel  a  mess  o'  'taters.  Your  coffee'd  tan  a 
side  o'  sole  leather,  and  there's  enough  grease  about 
your  meat  to  float  a  skiff ;  but  I  didn't  expect  to  live 
at  a  hotel  when  I  come  down  here." 

The  Deacon  strolled  down  near  Regimental  Head 
quarters.  An  Aid  came  up  and,  saluting  the  Colonel, 
said: 

"Colonel,  the  General  presents  his  compliments, 
and  instructs  me  to  say  that  he  has  received  orders 
from  Division  Headquarters  to  send  details  of  a 
Corporal  and  five  men  from  each  regiment  there  to 
morrow  morning  at  7  o'clock  for  fatigue  duty.  You 
will  furnish  yours." 

"Very  good,"  answered  the  Colonel,  returning  the 
salute.  "Adjutant,  order  the  detail." 

"Sergeant-Ma j or,"  said  the  Adjutant,  after  a  mo 
mentary  glance  at  his  roster,  "send  an  order  to 
Capt,  McGillicuddy,  of  Co.  Q,  for  a  Corporal  and 
five  men  for  fatigue  duty,  to  report  at  Division 
Headquarters  at  7  to-morrow  morning." 

The  Deacon  walked  toward  Co.  Q's  quarters,  and 
presently  saw  the  Orderly  hand  the  Captain  the 
order  from  the  Colonel. 

"Orderly-Sergeant,"  said  the  Captain,  "detail  a 
Corporal  and  five  men  to  report  for  fatigue  duty 
at  Division  Headquarters  to-morrow  at  7  o'clock." 

The  Orderly- Sergeant  looked  over  his  roster,  and 
then  walked  down  to  Si's  residence. 

"Klegg,"  said  he,  "you  will  report  for  fatigue  duty 
at  Division  Headquarters  to-morrow  at  7  o'clock 
with  five  men.  You  will  take  Shorty,  Simmons,  Sul 
livan,  Tomkins  and  Wheeler  with  you." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Si,  saluting. 


THE    DEACON'S    INITIATION.  205 

"Si,"  said  his  father,  with  a  quizzical  smile,  "I've 
bin  wonderin',  ever  since  I  heard  that  you  wuz  an 
officer,  how  much  o'  the  army  you  commanded.  Now 
I  see  that  if  it  wuz  turned  upside  down  you'd  be 
on  the  very  top." 

"He  leads  the  army  when  it  goes  backward,"  in 
terjected  Shorty. 

"Gracious,  Pap,"  said  Si,  good-humoredly,  "I 
haven't  rank  enough  to  get  me  behind  a  saplin'  on  the 
battlefield.  The  Colonel  has  the  pick  o'  the  biggest 
tree,  the  Lieutenant-Colonel  and  Major  take  the 
next;  the  Captains  and  Lieutenants  take  the  second 
growth,  and  the  Sergeants  have  the  saplins.  I'm 
lucky  if  I  git  so  much  as  a  bush." 

"Old  Rosecrans  must  have  a  big  saw-log,"  said 
his  father. 

"Not  much  saw-log  for  old  Rosey,"  said  Si,  resent 
ing  even  a  joking  disparagement  upon  his  beloved 
General.  "During  the  battle  he  wuz  wherever  it 
wuz  hottest,  and  on  horseback,  too.  Wherever  the 
firm'  wuz  the  loudest  he'd  gallop  right  into  it.  His 
staff  was  shot  down  all  around  him,  but  he  never 
flinched.  I  tell  you,  he's  the  greatest  General  in 
the  world." 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast,  and  as  Si  and 
Shorty  were  preparing  to  go  to  Division  Headquar 
ters,  Si  said : 

"Pap,  you  just  stay  at  home  and  keep  house  to 
day.  Keep  your  eyes  on  the  boys ;  I  tell  it  to  you  in 
confidence,  for  I  wouldn't  for  the  world  have  it 
breathed  outside  the  company,  that  Co.  Q's  the  most 
everlastin'  set  o'  thieves  that  ever  wore  uniform. 
Don't  you  ever  say  a  word  about  it  when  you  get 


206  SI  KLEGG. 

home,  for  it'd  never  do  to  have  the  boys'  folks  know 
anything  about  it.  I'd  break  their  hearts.  Me  and 
Shorty,  especially  Shorty,  are  the  only  honest  ones 
in  the  company.  The  other  fellers'd  steal  the  house 
from  over  your  head  if  you  didn't  watch  'em." 

"That's  so,"  asseverated  Shorty.  "Me  and  Si — 
especially  me — is  the  only  honest  ones  in  the  com 
pany.  We're  the  only  ones  you  kin  really  trust." 

"I'd  be  sorry  to  think  that  Si  had  learned  to  steal," 
said  the  Deacon  gravely,  at  which  Shorty  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  give  Si  a  furtive  kick.  "But 
I'll  look  out  for  thieves.  We  used  to  have  lots  o' 
them  in  Posey  County,  but  after  we  hung  one  or 
two,  and  rid  some  others  on  rails,  the  revival  meet- 
in's  seemed  to  take  hold  on  the  rest,  and  they  got 
converted." 

"Something  like  that  ought  to  be  done  in  the 
army,"  murmured  Shorty. 

"When  you  want  anything  to  eat  you  know  where 
to  git  it,"  said  Si,  as  they  moved  off.  "We'll  prob 
ably  be  back  in  time  to  git  supper." 

The  Deacon  watched  the  squad  march  away,  and 
then  turned  to  think  how  he  would  employ  himself 
during  the  day.  He  busied  himself  for  awhile  clean 
ing  up  the  cabin  and  setting  things  to  rights,  and 
flattered  himself  that  his  housekeeping  was  superior 
to  his  son's.  Then  he  decided  to  cut  some  wood. 
He  found  the  ax,  "condemned"  it  for  some  time  as 
to  its  dullness  and  bad  condition,  but  finally  attacked 
with  it  a  tree  which  had  been  hauled  up  back  of 
the  company  line  for  fuel.  It  was  hard  work,  and 
presently  he  sat  down  to  rest.  Loud  words  of  com 
mand  came  from  just  beyond  the  hill,  and  he  walked 


THE  DEACON'S  INITIATION.  207 

over  there  to  see  what  was  going  on.  He  saw 
a  regiment  drilling,  and  watched  it  for  some  minutes 
with  interest.  Then  he  walked  back  to  his  work, 
but  found  to  his  amazement  that  his  ax  was  gone. 
He  could  see  nobody  around  on  whom  his  suspicions 
could  rest. 

"Mebbe  somebody's  borrowed  it,"  he  said,  "and 
will  bring  it  back  when  he's  through  usin'  it.  If 
he  don't  I  kin  buy  a  better  ax  for  10  or  12  bits. 
Somebody  must  have  axes  for  sale  'round  here 
somewhere." 

He  waited  awhile  for  the  borrower  to  return  the 
tool,  but  as  he  did  not,  he  gathered  up  a  load  of 
wood  and  carried  it  up  to  the  cabin. 

"The  boys']  1  be  mighty  hungry  when  they  git  back 
this  evenin',"  said  he  to  himself.  "I'll  jest  git  up 
a  good  supper  for  'em.  I'll  show  Si  that  the  old 
man  knows  some  p'ints  about  cookin',  even  if  he 
hain't  bin  in  the  army,  that'll  open  the  youngster's 
eyes." 

He  found  a  tin  pan,  put  in  it  a  generous  supply 
of  beans,  and  began  carefully  picking  them  over 
and  blowing  the  dust  out,  the  same  as  he  had  often 
seen  his  wife  do.  Having  finished  this  to  his  satis 
faction,  he  set  down  the  pan  and  went  back  into  the 
cabin  to  get  the  kettle  to  boil  them  in.  When  he  re 
turned  he  found  that  pan  and  beans  had  vanished, 
and  again  he  saw  no  one  upon  whom  he  could  fix  his 
suspicions.  The  good  Deacon  began  to  find  the  "old 
Adam  rising  within  him,"  but  as  a  faithful  member 
of  the  church  he  repressed  his  choler. 

"I  can't  hardly  believe  all  that  Si  and  Shorty  said 
about  the  dishonesty  of  Co.  Q,"  he  communed  with 


208  SI  KLEGG. 

himself.  "Many  o'  the  boys  in  it  I  know — they're 
right  from  our  neighborhood.  Good  boys  as  ever 
lived,  and  honest  as  the  day  is  long.  Some  o'  them 
belonged  to  our  Sunday  school.  I  can't  believe  that 
they've  turned  out  bad  so  soon.  Yet  it  looks  awful 
suspicious.  The  last  one  I  see  around  here  was  Jed 
Baskins.  His  father's  a  reggerly  ordained  preacher. 
Jed  never  could  've  took  them  beans.  But  who  on 
airth  done  it?" 

The  Deacon  carefully  fastened  the  door  of  the 
cabin,  and  proceeded  with  his  camp-kettle  to  the 
spring  to  get  some  water.  He  found  there  quite  a 
crowd,  with  many  in  line  waiting  for  their  chance 
at  the  spring.  He  stood  around  awhile  awaiting 
his  chance,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  get  any  nearer. 
He  said  something  about  the  length  of  time  it  took, 
and  a  young  fellow  near  remarked: 

"Here,  Uncle,  give  me  your  kittle.  I'll  git  it  filled 
for  you." 

Without  a  thought  the  Deacon  surrendered  the 
kettle  to  him,  and  he  took  his  place  in  line.  The 
Deacon  watched  him  edging  up  toward  the  spring 
for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  his  attention  was 
called  to  a  brigade  manuvering  in  a  field  across  the 
river.  After  awhile  he  thought  again  about  his 
kettle,  and  looked  for  the  kindly  young  man  who  had 
volunteered  to  fill  it.  There  were  several  in  the  line 
who  looked  like  him,  but  none  whom  he  could  posi 
tively  identify  as  him. 

"Which  o'  you  boys  got  my  kittle?"  he  inquired, 
walking  along  the  line. 

"Got  your  kittle,  you  blamed  teamster,"  they  an 
swered  crossly.  "Go  away  from  here.  We  won't 


THE    DEACON'S    INITIATION.  209 

allow  teamsters  at  this  spring.    It's  only  for  soldiers. 
Go  to  your  own  spring." 

His  kettle  was  gone,  too.  That  was  clear.  As 
the  Deacon  walked  back  to  the  cabin  he  was  very 
hot  in  the  region  of  his  collar.  He  felt  quite  shame 
faced,  too,  as  to  the  way  the  boys  would  look  on  his 
management,  in  the  face  of  the  injunctions  they  had 
given  him  at  parting.  His  temper  was  not  improved 
by  discovering  that  while  he  was  gone  someone  had 
carried  off  the  bigger  part  of  the  wood  he  had  labori 
ously  chopped  and  piled  up  in  front  of  the  cabin.  He 
sat  down  in  the  doorway  and  meditated  angrily : 

"I'll  be  dumbed  (there,  I'm  glad  that  Mariar 
didn't  hear  me  say  that.  I'm  afeared  I'm  gittin'  to 
swear  just  like  these  other  fellers) .  I'll  be  dumbed 
if  I  ever  imagined  there  wuz  sich  a  passel  o'  con 
demned  thieves  on  the  face  o'  the  airth.  And  they 
all  seem  sich  nice,  gentlemanly  fellers,  too.  What'll 
we  do  with  them  when  they  git  back  home?" 

Presently  he  roused  himself  up  to  carry  out  his 
idea  of  getting  a  good  meal  ready  for  the  boys  by 
the  time  they  returned,  tired  and  hungry.  He  rum 
maged  through  the  cabin,  and  came  across  an  old  tin 
bucket  partially  filled  with  scraps  of  paper.  There 
did  not  seem  to  be  anything  of  value  in  it,  and  he 
tossed  the  contents  on  the  smoldering  fire.  Instantly 
there  was  an  explosion  which  took  the  barrel  off  the 
top  of  the  chimney,  sent  the  stones  rattling  down, 
filled  the  room  full  of  smoke,  singed  the  Deacon's 
hair  and  whiskers,  and  sped  him  out  of  the  cabin  in 
great  alarm.  A  crowd  quickly  gathered  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  Just  then  Si  appeared  at  the  head 
of  his  squad.  He  and  Shorty  hurried  to  the  scene 
of  the  disturbance. 


210 


SI  KLEGG. 


"What  is  the  matter,  Pap?"  Si  asked  anxiously. 
"Why,"  explained  his  father,  "I  was  lookin'  round 
for  something  to  git  water  in,  and  I  found  an  old  tin 


-i 


DEACON  KLEGG  IS  SURPRISED. 

bucket  with  scraps  o'  paper  in.  I  throwed  them  in 
the  fire,  and  I'm  feared  I  busted  your  fireplace  all 
to  pieces,  But  I'll  help  you  to  fix  it  up  agin,"  he 
added  deprecatingly. 

"But  you  ain't  hurt  any,  are  you,  Pap?"  asked  Si, 


THE   DEACON'S   INITIATION.  211 

anxiously  examining  his  father,  and  ignoring  all 
thought  as  to  the  damage  to  the  dwelling. 

"No,"  said  his  father  cheerfully.  "I  guess  I  lost  a 
little  hair,  but  I  could  spare  that.  It  was  about 
time  to  git  it  cut,  anyway.  I  think  we  kin  fix  up 
the  fireplace,  Si." 

"Cuss  the  fireplace,  so  long's  you're  all  right," 
answered  Si.  "A  little  mud  '11  straighten  that  out. 
You  got  hold  o'  the  bucket  where  me  and  Shorty  've 
bin  savin'  up  our  broken  cartridges  for  a  little  pri 
vate  Fourth  o'  July  some  night." 

"But,  Si,"  said  the  Deacon  sorrowfully,  deter 
mined  to  have  it  out  at  once.  "They're  bigger 
thieves  than  you  said  there  wuz.  They  stole  your 
ax — but  I'll  buy  you  a  better  one  for  10  or  12  bits; 
they  took  your  pan  and  beans,  an'  took  your  camp- 
kittle,  and  finally  all  the  wood  that  I'd  cut." 

He  looked  so  doleful  that  the  boys  could  not  help 
laughing. 

"Don't  worry  about  them,  Pap,"  said  Si  cheer 
fully.  "We'll  fix  them  all  right.  Let's  go  inside 
and  straighten  things  up,  and  then  we'll  have  some 
thing  to  eat." 

"But  you  can't  git  nothin'  to  eat,"  persisted  the 
Deacon,  "because  there's  nothin'  to  cook  in." 

"We'll  have  something,  all  the  same,"  said  Shorty, 
with  a  wink  of  enjoyable  anticipation  at  Si. 

The  two  boys  carefully  stowed  away  their  over 
coats,  which  were  rolled  up  in  bundles  in  a  way 
that  would  be  suspicious  to  a  soldier.  They  got  the 
interior  of  the  cabin  in  more  presentable  shape,  and 
then  Shorty  went  out  and  produced  a  camp-kettle 
from  somewhere,  in  which  they  made  their  coffee. 


212 


SI  KLEGG. 


When  this  was  ready,  they  shut  the  door  and  care 
fully  unrolled  their  overcoats.  A  small  sugar-cured 
ham,  a  box  of  sardines,  a  can  of  peaches,  and  a 
couple  of  loaves  of  fresh,  soft  bread  developed. 


7 


TRYING  TO  CONQUER  THE  DEACON'S  SCRUPLES. 

"Yum-yum !"  murmured  Shorty,  gloating  over  the 
viands. 

"Where  in  the  world  did  you  git  them,  boys?" 
asked  the  Deacon  in  wonderment. 


THE  DEACON'S  INITIATION.  213 

"Eat  what  is  set  before  you,  and  ask  no  questions, 
for  conscience's  sake,  Pap,"  said  Si,  slicing  off  a 
piece  of  the  ham  and  starting-  to  broil  it  for  his 
father.  "That's  what  you-  used  to  tell  me." 

"Si,"  said  the  father  sternly,  as  an  awful  suspicion 
moved  in  his  mind,  "I  hope  you  didn't  steal  'em." 

"Of  course,  not,  Pap.     How  kin  you  think  so?" 

"Josiah  Klegg,"  thundered  the  father,  "tell  me 
how  you  came  by  them  things." 

"Well,  Pap,"  said  Si,  considerably  abashed,  "it  was 
something  like  this:  Our  squad  was  set  to  work  to 
unload  a  car  o'  Christian  Commission  things.  Me  and 
Shorty  pulled  off  our  overcoats  and  laid  them  in  a 
corner.  When  we  got  through  our  work  and  picked 
up  our  coats  we  found  these  things  in  them.  Some 
bad  men  had  hid  them  there,  thinkin'  they  wuz 
their  overcoats.  We  thought  the  best  way  wuz  to 
punish  the  thieves  by  takin'  the  things  away  with 
us.  Now,  here's  a  piece  o'  ham  briled  almost  as 
nice  as  mother  could  do.  Take  it,  and  cut  you  off 
a  slice  of  that  soft  bread." 

"Si,  the  receiver's  as  bad  as  the  thief.  I  won't 
touch  it." 

"Pap,  the  harm's  been  done.  No  matter  who  done 
it,  the  owner'll  never  see  his  victuals  agin.  Jest  as 
like  he  cribbed  'em  from  somebody  else.  These 
Christian  Commission  things  wuz  sent  down  for  us 
soljers,  anyhow.  We'd  better  have  'em  than  the 
bummers  around  the  rear.  They'll  spile  and  be 
wasted  if  you  don't  eat  'em,  and  that'd  be  a  sin." 

The  savory  ham  was  very  appetizing,  the  Deacon 
was  very  hungry,  and  the  argument  was  sophistical. 

"I'll  take  it,  Si,"  said  he  with  a  sigh.     "I  don't 


214  SI  KLEGG. 

wonder  that  the  people  down  here  are  rebels  and 
all  that  sort  o'  thing.  It's  in  the  air.  I've  felt  my 
principles  steadily  weakenin'  from  the  time  I  crossed 
the  Ohio  River." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE  DEACON  IS  SHOCKED — HE  IS  CAUGHT  WITH  THE 
GOODS  ON  HIM  AND  IS  RESCUED  JUST  IN  TIME. 

WITH  the  Deacon's  assistance,  the  chimney 
was  soon  rebuilt,  better  than  ever,  and  sev 
eral  homelike  improvements  were  added. 
The  lost  utensils  were  also  replaced,  one  by  one. 
The  Deacon  was  sometimes  troubled  in  his  mind  as 
to  where  the  pan,  the  camp-kettle,  etc.,  came  from. 
Si  or  Shorty  would  simply  bring  in  one  of  them, 
with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  and  add  it  to  the  house 
hold  stock.  The  Deacon  was  afraid  to  ask  any  ques 
tions. 

One  day,  however,  Shorty  came  in  in  a  glow  of 
excitement,  with  a  new  ax  in  his  hand. 

"There;  isn't  she  a  daisy,"  he  said,  holding  it  up 
and  testing  the  edge  with  his  thumb.  "None  o' 
your  old  sledges  with  no  more  edge  than  a  maul, 
that  you  have  to  nigger  the  wood  off  with.  Brand 
new,  and  got  an  edge  like  a  razor.  You  kin  chop 
wood  with  that,  I  tell  you." 

"It's  a  tolerable  good  ax.  Wuth  about  10  bits," 
said  the  Deacon,  examining  the  ax  critically.  "Last 
ax  I  bought  from  01  Taylor  cost  12  bits.  It  was 
a  better  one.  How  much'd  you  give  for  this?  I'll 
pay  it  myself." 

"Do  you  know  Jed  Baskins  thinks  himself  the 


216 


SI  KLEGG. 


best  eucher  player  in  the  200th  Ind.,"  said  Shorty, 
forgetting  himself  in  the  exultation  of  his  victory. 
"Jed  Baskins — the  Rev.  Jared  Baskins's  son — a 
eucher  player,"  gasped  the  Deacon.  "Why,  his 
father'd  no  more  tech  a  card  than  he  would  a  coal  o' 


'HOW  MUCH'D  YOU  GIVE  FOR  THIS?' 


fire.  Not  so  much,  for  I've  often  heard  him  say  that 
a  coal  o'  fire  kin  only  burn  the  hands,  while  cards 
scorch  the  soul." 

"Well,  Jed,"  continued  Shorty,  "bantered  me  to 
play  three  games  out  o'  five  for  this  here  ax  agin 


THE     DEACON     IS     SHOCKED.  217 

my  galvanized  brass  watch.  We  wuz  boss  and  hoss 
on  the  first  two  games;  on  the  saw-off  we  had  four 
pints  apiece.  I  dealt  and  turned  up  the  seven  o' 
spades.  Jed  ordered  me  up,  and  then  tried  to  :.*ing 
in  on  me  a  right  bower  from  another  deck,  but  I 
knowed  he  hadn't  it,  because  I'd  tried  to  ketch  it  in 
the  deal,  but  missed  it  anl  slung  it  under  the  table. 
I  made  Jed  play  fair,  and  euchered  him,  with  only 
two  trumps  in  my  hand.  Jed's  a  mighty  slick  hand 
with  the  pasteboards,  but  he  meets  his  boss  in  your 
Uncle  Ephraim.  I  didn't  learn  to  play  eucher  in  the 
hay  lofts  o'  Bean  Blossom  Crick  for  nothin',  I  kin 
tell  you." 

An  expression  of  horror  came  into  Deacon  Klegg's 
face,  and  he  looked  at  Shorty  with  severe  disap 
proval,  which  was  entirely  lost  on  that  worthy,  who 
continued  to  prattle  on : 

"Jed  Baskins  kin  slip  in  more  cold  decks  on  green 
horns  than  any  boy  I  ever  see.  You'd  think  he'd 
spent  his  life  on  a  Mississippi  steamboat  or  follerin' 
a  circus.  You  remember  how  he  cleaned  out  them 
Maumee  Muskrats  at  chuck-a-luck  last  pay-day? 
Why,  there  wuzn't  money  enough  left  in  one  com 
pany  to  buy  postage  stamps  for  their  letters  home. 
You  know  how  he  done  it?  Why,  that  galoot  of  a 
citizen  gambler  that  we  tossed  in  a  blanket  down 
there  by  Nashville,  and  then  rid  out  o'  camp  on  a 
rail,  learned  him  how  to  finger  the  dice.  I  was  sure 
some  o'  them  Maumee  smart  Alecks'd  git  on  to  Jed, 
but  they  didn't.  I  declare  they  wouldn't  see  a  six- 
mule  team  if  it  druv  right  across  the  board  afore 
'em.  But  I'm  onto  him  every  minit.  I  told  him 
when  he  tried  to  ring  in  that  jack  on  me  that  he 


218  SI  KLEGG. 

didn't  know  enough  about  cards  to  play  with  our 
Sunday  school  class  on  Bean  Blossom  Crick." 

"Josiah  Klegg,"  said  the  Deacon  sternly,  "do  you 
play  cards?" 

"I  learned  to  play  jest  a  little,"  said  Si  depreca- 
tingly,  and  getting  very  red  in  the  face.  "I  jest 
know  the  names  o'  the  cards,  and  a  few  o'  the  rules 
o'  the  game." 

"I'm  surprised  at  you,"  said  the  Deacon,  "after 
the  careful  way  you  wuz  brung  up.  Cards  are  the 
devil's  own  picture-books.  They  drag  a  man  down 
to  hell  jest  as  sure  as  strong  drink.  Do  you  own  a 
deck  o'  cards?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Si.  "I  did  have  one,  but  I 
throwed  it  away  when  we  wuz  goin'  into  the  battle 
o'  Stone  River." 

"Thank  heaven  you  did,"  said  the  Deacon  de 
voutly.  "Think  o'  your  goin'  into  battle  with  them 
infernal  things  on  you.  They'd  draw  death  to  you 
jest  like  iron  draws  lightnin'." 

"That's  wrhat  I  was  afeared  of,"  Si  confessed. 

"Now,  don't  you  ever  touch  another  card,"  said 
the  Deacon.  "Don't  you  ever  own  another  deck. 
Don't  you  insult  the  Lord  by  doin'  things  when  you 
think  you're  safe  that  you  wouldn't  do  when  you're 
in  danger  and  want  His  protection." 

"Yes,  sir,"  responded  Si  very  meekly.  The  Deacon 
was  so  excited  that  he  pulled  out  his  red  bandanna, 
mopped  his  face  vigorously,  and  walked  out  of  the 
door  to  get  some  fresh  air.  As  his  back  was  turned, 
Si  reached  slily  up  to  a  shelf,  pulled  down  a  pack  of 
cards,  and  flung  them  behind  the  back-log. 

"I  didn't  yarn  to  Pap  when  I  told  him  I  didn't 


THE     DEACON     IS     SHOCKED.  219 

own  a  deck,"  he  said  to  Shorty.  "Them  wuzn't 
really  our  cards.  I  don't  exactly  know  who  they 
belonged  to." 

The  good  Deacon  was  still  beset  with  the  idea  of 
astonishing  the  boys  with  a  luxurious  meal  cooked 
by  himself,  without  their  aid,  counsel  or  assistance. 
His  failure  the  first  time  only  made  him  the  more 
determined.  While  he  conceded  that  Si  and  Shorty 
did  unusually  well  with  the  materials  at  their  com 
mand,  he  had  his  full  share  of  the  conceit  that  pos 
sesses  every  man  born  of  woman  that,  without  any 
previous  training  or  experience,  he  can  prepare  food 
better  than  anybody  else  who  attempts  to  do  it.  It 
is  usually  conceded  that  there  are  three  things  which 
every  man  alive  believes  he  can  do  better  than  the 
one  who  is  engaged  at  it.  These  are : 

1.  Telling  a  story; 

2.  Poking  a  fire ; 

3.  Managing  a  woman. 

Cooking  a  meal  should  be  made  the  fourth  of  this 
category. 

One  day  Si  and  Shorty  went  with  the  rest  of  Co.  Q 
on  fatigue  duty  on  the  enormous  fortifications,  the 
building  of  which  took  up  so  much  of  the  Army 
of  the  Cumberland's  energies  during  its  stay  around 
Murfreesboro'  from  Jan.  3  to  June  24,  1863.  Rose- 
crans  seemed  suddenly  seized  with  McClellan's 
mania  for  spade  work,  and  was  piling  up  a  large 
portion  of  Middle  Tennessee  into  parapet,  bastion 
and  casemate,  lunet,  curtain,  covered-way  and  gorge, 
according  to  the  system  of  Vauban.  The  200th  Ind. 
had  to  do  its  unwilling  share  of  this,  and  Si  and 
Shorty  worked  off  some  of  their  superabundant 


220  SI  KLEGG. 

energy  with  pick  and  shovel.  They  would  come  back 
at  night  tired,  muddy  and  mad.  They  would  be 
ready  to  quarrel  with  and  abuse  everybody  and  every 
thing  from  President  Lincoln  down  to  the  Commis 
sary-Sergeant  and  the  last  issue  of  pickled  beef  and 
bread — especially  the  Commissary-Sergeant  and  the 
rations.  The  good  Deacon  sorrowed  over  these 
manifestations.  He  was  intensely  loyal.  He  wanted 
to  see  the  soldiers  satisfied  with  their  officers  and 
the  provisions  made  for  their  comfort. 

He  would  get  up  a  good  dinner  for  the  boys,  which 
would  soothe  their  ruffled  tempers  and  make  them 
more  satisfied  with  their  lot. 

He  began  a  labored  planning  of  the  feast.  He 
looked  over  the  larder,  and  found  there  pork,  corned 
beef,  potatoes,  beans,  coffee,  brown  sugar,  and  hard 
tack. 

"Good,  substantial  vittles,  that  stick  to  the  ribs," 
he  muttered  to  himself,  "and  I'll  fix  up  a  good  mess 
o'  them.  But  the  boys  ought  to  have  something  of  a 
treat  once  in  a  while,  and  I  must  think  up  some  way 
to  give  it  to  'em." 

He  pondered  over  the  problem  as  he  carefully 
cleaned  the  beans,  and  set  them  to  boiling  in  a  kettle 
over  the  fire.  He  washed  some  potatoes  to  put  in 
the  ashes  and  roast.  But  these  were  too  common 
place  viands.  He  wanted  something  that  would  be 
luxurious. 

"I  recollect,"  he  said  to  himself  finally,  "seein'  a 
little  store,  which  some  feller 'd  set  up  a  little  ways 
from  here.  It's  a  board  shanty,  and  I  expect  he's 
got  a  lots  o'  things  in  it  that  the  boys'd  like,  for 
there's  nearly  always  a  big  crowd  around  it.  I'll 


THE     DEACON     IS     SHOCKED. 


221 


jest  fasten  up  the  house,  and  walk  over  there  while 
the  beans  is  a-seethin',  and  see  if  I  can't  pick  up 
something  real  good  to  eat." 


DEACON  KLEGG  LOOKS  OVER  THE  LARDER. 

He  made  his  way  through  the  crowd,  which 
seemed  to  him  to  smell  of  whisky,  until  he  came  to 
the  shelf  across  the  front,  and  took  a  look  at  the 


222  SI   KLEGG. 

stock.  It  seemed  almost  wholly  made  up  of  canned 
goods,  and  boxes  of  half-Spanish  cigars,  and  play 
ing-cards. 

"Don't  seem  to  ba  much  of  a  store,  after  all," 
soliloquized  the  Deacon,  after  he  had  surveyed  the 
display.  "Ain't  a  patchin'  to  01  Taylor's.  Don't  see 
anything  very  invitin'  here.  0,  yes,  here's  a  cheese. 
Say,  Mister,  gi'  me  about  four  pounds  o'  that  there 
cheese." 

"Plank  down  your  $2  fust,  ole  man."  responded 
the  storekeeper.  "This  is  a  cash  store — cash  in 
advance  every  time.  Short  credits  make  long 
friends.  Hand  me  over  your  money,  and  I'll  hand 
you  over  the  cheese." 

"Land  o'  Goshen,  four  bits  a  pound  for  cheese," 
gasped  the  Deacon.  "Why,  I  kin  git  the  best  full- 
cream  cheese  at  home  for  a  bit  a  pound." 

"Why  don't  you  buy  your  cheese  at  home,  then,  old 
man  ?"  replied  the  storekeeper.  "You'd  make  money, 
if  you  didn't  have  to  pay  freight  to  Murfreesboro'. 
Guess  you  don't  know  much  about  gettin'  goods 
down  to  the  front.  But  I  hain't  no  time  to  argy 
with  you.  If  you  don't  want  to  buy,  step  back,  and 
make  room  for  someone  that  does.  Business  is  lively 
this  mornin'.  Time  is  money.  Small  profits  and 
quick  returns,  you  know.  No  time  to  fool  with 
loafers  who  only  look  on  and  ask  questions." 

"Strange  way  for  a  storekeeper  to  act,"  muttered 
the  Deacon.  "Must've  bin  brung  up  in  a  Land  Office. 
He  couldn't  keep  store  in  Posey  County  a  week. 
They  wouldn't  stand  his  sass."  Then  aloud:  "You 
may  gi'  me  two  pounds  o'  cheese." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  plank  down  the  rhino?"  said 


THE     DEACON     IS     SHOCKED.  223 

the  storekeeper  impatiently.  "Put  up  your  money 
fust,  and  then  you'll  git  the  goods.  This  ain't  no 
credit  concern  with  a  stay-law  attachment.  Cash  in 
advance  saves  bookkeeping." 

"Well,  I  declare,"  muttered  the  Deacon,  as  he 
fished  a  greenback  out  of  a  leather  pocketbook 
fastened  with  a  long  strap.  "This  is  the  first  time 
I  ever  had  to  pay  for  things  before  I  got  'em." 

"Never  went  to  a  circus,  then,  old  man,  or  run  for 
office,"  replied  the  storekeeper,  and  his  humor  was 
rewarded  with  a  roar  of  laughter.  "Anything  else? 
Speak  quick  or  step  back." 

"I'll  take  a  can  o'  them  preserved  peaches  and  a 
quart  jug  o'  that  genuine  Injianny  maple  molasses," 
said  the  Deacon  desperately,  naming  two  articles 
which  seemed  much  in  demand. 

"All  right;  $2  for  the  peaches,  and  $2  more  for 
the  molasses." 

"Sakes  alive!"  ejaculated  the  Deacon,  producing 
the  strapped  pocketbook  again.  "Five  dollars  gone, 
and  precious  little  to  show  for  it." 

He  took  his  jug  and  his  can,  and  started  back  to 
the  cabin.  A  couple  of  hundred  yards  away  he  met 
a  squad  of  armed  men  marching  toward  the  store, 
under  the  command  of  a  Lieutenant.  He  stepped  to 
one  side  to  let  them  pass,  but  the  Lieutenant  halted 
them,  and  asked  authoritatively: 

"What  have  you  got  there,  sir?" 

"Jest  some  things  I've  been  buyin'  for  the  boys' 
dinner,"  answered  the  Deacon. 

"Indeed!  Very  likely,"  remarked  the  Lieutenant 
sarcastically.  He  struck  the  jug  so  sharply  with 
his  sword  that  it  was  broken,  and  the  air  was  filled 


224  SI  KLEGG. 

with  a  powerful  odor  of  whisky.  The  liquor  splashed 
over  the  Deacon's  trousers  and  wet  them  through. 
The  expression  of  anger  on  his  face  gave  way  to  one 
of  horror.  He  had  always  been  one  of  the  most 
rigid  of  Temperance  men,  and  fairly  loathed  whisky 
in  all  shapes  and  uses. 

"Just  as  I  supposed,  you  old  vagabond,"  said  the 
Lieutenant,  contemptuously.  "Down  here  sneaking 
whisky  into  camp.  We'll  stop  that  mighty  sudden." 

He  knocked  the  can  of  peaches  out  of  the  Deacon's 
arms  and  ran  his  sword  into  it.  A  gush  of  whisky 
spurted  out.  The  Sergeant  took  the  package  of 
cheese  away  and  broke  it  open,  revealing  a  small 
flask  of  liquor. 

"The  idea  of  a  man  of  your  age  being  engaged  in 
such  business,"  said  the  Lieutenant  indignantly. 
"You  ought  to  be  helping  to  keep  the  men  of  the 
army  sober,  instead  of  corrupting  them  to  their  own 
great  injury.  You  are  doing  them  more  harm  than 
the  rebels." 

The  Deacon  was  too  astonished  and  angry  to  re 
ply.  Words  utterly  failed  him  in  such  a  crisis. 

"Take  charge  of  him,  Corporal,"  commanded  the 
Lieutenant.  "Put  him  in  the  guard-house  till  to 
morrow,  when  we'll  drum  him  out  of  camp,  with 
his  partner,  who  is  running  that  store." 

The  Corporal  caught  the  Deacon  by  the  arm 
roughly  and  pulled  him  into  the  rear  of  the  squad, 
which  hurried  toward  the  store.  The  crowd  in  front 
had  an  inkling  of  what  was  coming.  In  a  twinkling 
of  an  eye  they  made  a  rush  on  the  store,  each  man 
snatched  a  can  or  a  jug,  and  began  bolting  away 
as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him. 


THE    DEACON    IS    SHOCKED.  225 

The  storekeeper  ran  out  the  back  way,  and  tried 
to  make  his  escape,  but  the  Sergeant  of  the 
provost  squad  threw  down  his  musket  and  took 
after  him.  The  storekeeper  ran  fast,  inspired  by 
fear  and  the  desire  to  save  his  ill-gotten  gains,  but 
the  Sergeant  ran  faster,  and  presently  brought  him 
back,  panting  and  trembling,  to  witness  the  demoli 
tion  of  his  property.  The  shanty  was  being  torn 
down,  each  plank  as  it  came  off  being  snatched  up 
by  the  soldiers  to  carry  off  and  add  to  their  own 
habitations.  The  "canned  fruit"  was  being  punched 
with  bayonets,  and  the  jugs  smashed  by  gun-butts. 

"You  are  a  cheeky  scoundrel,"  said  the  Lieuten 
ant,  addressing  himself  to  the  storekeeper,  "to  come 
down  here  and  try  to  run  such  a  dead-fall  right 
in  the  middle  of  camp.  But  we'll  cure  you  of  any 
such  ideas  as  that.  You'll  find  it  won't  pay  at  all 
to  try  such  games  on  us.  You'll  go  to  the  guard 
house,  and  to-morrow  we'll  shave  your  head  and 
drum  you  and  your  partner  there  out  of  camp." 

"I  ain't  no  partner  o'  his,"  protested  the  Deacon 
earnestly.  "My  name's  Josiah  Klegg,  o'  Posey 
County,  Injianny.  I'm  down  here  on  a  visit  to  my 
son  in  the  200th  Injianny  Volunteer  Infantry.  I'm 
a  Deacon  in  the  Baptist  Church,  and  a  Patriarch  of 
the  Sons  o'  Temperance.  It'd  be  the  last  thing  in 
the  world  I'd  do  to  sell  whisky." 

"That  story  won't  wash,  old  man,"  said  the  Lieu 
tenant.  "You  were  caught  in  the  act,  with  the  goods 
in  your  possession,  and  trying  to  deceive  me." 

He  turned  away  to  order  the  squad  forward.  As 
they  marched  along  the  storekeeper  said  to  the 
Deacon : 


226  SI  KLEGG. 

"I'm  afraid  they've  got  me  dead  to  rights,  old  man, 
but  you  kin  git  out.  Just  keep  up  your  sancti 
monious  appearance  and  stick  to  your  Deacon  story, 
and  you'll  git  off.  I  know  you.  I've  lived  in  Posey 
County  myself.  I'm  going  to  trust  you.  I've  already 
made  a  clean  big  profit  on  this  venture,  and  I've  got 
it  right  down  in  my  pocket.  In  spite  of  all  they've 
spiled,  I'd  be  nigh  $500  ahead  o'  the  game  if  I  could 
git  out  o'  camp  with  what  I've  got  in  my  sock.  But 
they'll  probably  search  me  and  confiscate  my  wad 
for  the  hospital.  You  see,  I've  been  through  this 
thing  before.  I'm  goin'  to  pass  my  pile  over  to  you 
to  take  keer  of  till  I'm  through  this  rumpus.  You 
play  fair  with  me,  an'  I'll  whack  up  with  you  fair 
and  square,  dollar  for  dollar.  If  you  don't  I'll  follow 
you  for  years." 

"I  wouldn't  tech  a  dirty  dollar  of  yours  for  the 
world,"  said  the  Deacon  indignantly;  but  this  was 
lost  on  the  storekeeper,  who  was  watching  the  Lieu 
tenant. 

"Don't  say  a  word,"  he  whispered;  "he's  got  his 
eye  on  us.  There  it  is  in  your  overcoat  pocket." 

In  the  meantime  they  had  arrived  at  the  guard 
house.  The  Sergeant  stepped  back,  took  the  store 
keeper  roughly  by  the  shoulders,  and  shoved  him  up 
in  front  of  a  tall,  magisterial-looking  man  wealing 
a  Captain's  straps,  who  stood  frowning  before  the 
door. 

"Search  him,"  said  the  Captain  briefly. 

The  Sergeant  went  through  the  storekeeper's 
pockets  with  a  deftness  that  bespoke  experience.  He 
produced  a  small  amount  of  money,  some  of  it  in 
fractional  currency  and  Confederate  notes,  a  number 


THE    DEACON    IS    SHOCKED.  227 

of  papers,  a  plug  of  tobacco,  and  some  other  articles. 
He  handed  these  to  the  Captain,  who  hastily  looked 
over  them,  handed  back  the  tobacco  and  other  things 
and  the  small  change. 

"Give  these  back  to  him,"  he  said  briefly.  "Turn 
the  rest  of  the  money  over  to  the  hospital  fund. 
Where's  our  barber?  Shave  his  head,  call  up  the 
fifers  and  drummers,  and  drum  him  out  of  camp  at 
once.  I  haven't  time  to  waste  on  him." 

Before  he  had  done  speaking  the  guards  had  the 
storekeeper  seated  on  a  log,  and  were  shearing  his 
hair. 

"General,"  shouted  the  Deacon. 

"That's  a  Cap'n,  you  fool,"  said  one  of  the  guards. 

"Captain,  then,"  yelled  the  Deacon. 

"Who  is  that  man?"  said  the  Captain  severely. 

"He's  his  partner,"  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"Serve  him  the  same  way,"  said  the  Captain 
shortly,  turning  to  go. 

The  Deacon's  knees  smote  together.  He,  a  Deacon 
of  the  Baptist  Church,  and  a  man  of  stainless  repute 
at  home,  to  have  his  head  shaved  and  drummed  out 
of  camp.  He  would  rather  die  at  once.  The  guards 
had  laid  hands  on  him. 

"Captain,"  he  yelled  again,  "it's  all  a  horrible  mis 
take.  I  had  nothin'  to  do  with  this  man." 

"Talk  to  the  Lieutenant,  there,"  said  the  Captain, 
moving  off.  "He  will  attend  to  you." 

The  Lieutenant  was  attentively  watching  the 
barbering  operation.  "Cut  it  close — closer  yet,"  he 
admonished  the  barber. 

"Lieutenant!  Lieutenant!"  pleaded  the  Deacon, 
awkwardly  saluting. 

"Stand  back;  I'll  attend  to  you  next,"  said  the 


228  SI  KLEGG. 

Lieutenant  impatiently.  "Now,  tie  his  hands  behind 
him." 

The  Lieutenant  turned  toward  the  Deacon,  and 
the  barber  picked  up  his  shears  and  made  a  step 
in  that  direction.  Just  in  the  extremity  of  his  dan 
ger  the  Deacon  caught  sight  of  the  Captain  of  Co. 
Q  walking  toward  Headquarters. 

"Capt.  McGillicuddy !  Capt.  McGillicuddy!  come 
here  at  once!  Come  quick!"  he  called  in  a  voice 
which  had  been  trained  to  long-distance  work  on  the 
Wabash  bottoms. 

Capt.  McGillicuddy  looked  up,  recognized  the  wav 
ing  of  the  Deacon's  bandanna,  and  hastened  thither. 
Fortunately  he  knew  the  Provost  officers;  there 
were  explanations  all  around,  and  profuse  apologies, 
and  just  as  the  fifes  and  drums  struck  up  the 
"Rogue's  March"  behind  the  luckless  storekeeper, 
who  had  to  step  off  in  front  of  a  line  of  leveled  bay 
onets,  the  Deacon  walked  away  arm-in-arm  with  the 
Captain. 

"I'm  not  goin'  to  let  go  o'  you  till  I'm  safe  back 
in  our  own  place,"  he  said.  "My  gracious!  think  of 
havin'  my  head  shaved  and  marched  off  the  way  that 
feller's  bein'." 

He  walked  into  the  cabin  and  stirred  up  the  beans. 

"The  water's  biled  off,"  said  he  to  himself,  "but 
they  hain't  been  in  nigh  as  hot  a  place  as  I  have.  I 
guess  the  boys'll  have  to  do  with  a  plain  dinner  to 
day.  I'm  not  goin'  to  stir  out  o'  this  place  agin 
unless  they're  with  me." 

He  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket  for  his  bandanna 
and  felt  the  roll  of  bills,  which  he  had  altogether 
forgotten  in  his  excitement. 

His  face  was  a  study. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  DEACON  IS  TROUBLED — DISPOSES  OF  THE  $500 
"WHISKY"  MONEY  AND  GOES  OUT  FORAGING. 

FROM  the  door  of  the  cabin  the  Deacon  could 
see  the  fort  on  which  the  boys  were  piling 
up  endless  cubic  yards  of  the  red  soil  of  Ten 
nessee.  As  he  watched  them,  with  an  occasional 
glance  at  the  beans  seething  in  the  kettle,  fond  mem 
ories  rose  of  a  woman  far  away  on  the  Wabash,  who 
these  many  years  had  thought  and  labored  for  his 
comfort  in  their  home,  while  he  labored  within  her 
sight  on  their  farm.  It  was  the  first  time  in  their 
long  married  life  that  he  had  been  away  from  her 
for  such  a  length  of  time. 

"I  believe  I'm  gittin'  real  homesick  to  see  Mariar," 
he  said  with  a  sigh.  "I'd  give  a  good  deal  for  a 
letter  from  her.  I  do  hope  everything  on  the  farm's 
all  right.  I  think  it  is.  I'm  a  little  worried  about 
Brown  Susy,  the  mare,  but  I  think  she'll  pick  up 
as  the  weather  settles.  I  hope  her  fool  colt,  that  I've 
give  Si,  won't  break  his  leg  nor  nothin'  while  I'm 
away." 

Presently  he  saw  the  men  quit  work,  and  he  turned 
to  get  ready  for  the  boys.  He  covered  the  rough 
table  with  newspapers  to  do  duty  for  a  cloth;  he 
had  previously  scoured  up  the  tinware  to  its  utmost 
brightness  and  cleanliness,  and  while  the  boys  were 


230  SI  KLEGG. 

washing  off  the  accumulations  of  clay,  and  liberally 
denouncing  the  man  who  invented  fort  building,  and 
even  West  Point  for  educating  men  to  pursue  the 
nefarious  art,  he  dished  out  the  smoking  viands. 

"Upon  my  word,  Pap,"  said  Si,  as  he  helped  him 
self  liberally,  "you  do  beat  us  cookin'  all  holler. 
Your  beans  taste  almost  as  good  as  mother's.  We 
must  git  you  to  give  us  some  lessons." 

"Yes;  you're  a  boss  cook,"  said  Shorty,  with  his 
mouth  full.  "Better  not  let  Gen.  Eosecrans  find  out 
how  well  you  kin  bile  beans,  or  he'll  have  you 
drafted,  and  keep  you  with  him  till  the  end  o'  the 
war." 

After  supper  they  lighted  their  pipes  and  seated 
themselves  in  front  of  the  fire. 

"How'd  you  git  along  to-day,  Pap,"  said  Si.  "I 
hope  you  didn't  have  no  trouble." 

The  Deacon  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  blew 
a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  considered  a  moment  before 
replying.  He  did  not  want  to  recount  his  experi 
ences,  at  least,  until  he  had  digested  them  more 
thoroughly.  He  was  afraid  of  the  joking  of  the 
boys,  and  still  more  that  the  story  would  get  back 
home.  Then,  he  was  still  sorely  perplexed  about  the 
disposition  of  the  money.  He  had  not  thought  that 
out  yet,  by  a  great  deal.  But  the  question  was 
plump  and  direct,  and  concealment  and  untruth  were 
alike  absolutely  foreign  to  his  nature.  After  a  min 
ute's  pause  he  decided  to  tell  the  whole  story. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  began  with  a  shamefaced  look,  "I 
had  the  flamboyantest  racket  to-day  I've  had  yit." 

The  two  boys  took  their  pipes  out  and  regarded 
him  with  surprise. 


THE    DEACON    IS    TROUBLED.  231 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "it  laid 
away  over  gittin'  down  here,  and  my  night  in  the 
guard-house,  even.  You  see,  after  you  went  away 
I  began  to  think  about  gittin'  up  something  a  little 
extry  for  you  to  eat.  I  thought  about  it  for  awhile, 


'HIT  MY  JUG  A  WELT  WITH  HIS  SWORD. 


and  then  recollected  seein'  a  little  grocery  that'd 
been  set  up  nigh  here  in  a  board  shanty." 

"Yes,  we  know  about  it,"  said  Shorty,  exchanging 
a  look  with  Si. 

"Well,"  continued  the  Deacon,  "I  concluded  that 
I'd  jest  slip  over  there,  and  mebbe  I  could  find 


232  SI  KLEGG. 

something  that'd  give  variety  to  your  pork  and 
beans.  He  didn't  seem  to  have  much  but  canned 
goods,  and  his  prices  wuz  jest  awful.  But  I  wuz  de 
termined  to  git  something,  and  I  finally  bought  a  jug 
o'  genuine  Injianny  maple  molasses,  a  chunk  o' 
cheese  and  a  can  o'  peaches.  I  had  to  pay  $5  for  it. 
He  said  he  had  to  charge  high  prices  on  account  o' 
freight  rates,  and  I  remembered  that  I  had  some 
trouble  in  gittin'  things  down  here,  and  so  I  paid 
him.  He  wuz  very  peart  and  sassy,  and  it  was  take- 
it-or-leave-it-and-be-plaguey-quick-about-it  all  the 
time.  But  I  paid  my  $5,  gathered  the  things  up,  and 
started  back  to  the  house.  I  hadn't  got  more'n  100 
rods  away  when  I  met  one  o'  these  officers  with  only 
one  o'  them  things  in  his  shoulder  straps" 

"A  First  Lieutenant,"  interjected  Si. 

"Yes,  they  called  him  a  Lieutenant.  He  spoke 
very  bossy  and  cross  to  me,  and  hit  my  jug  a  welt 
with  his  sword.  He  broke  it,  and  what  do  you 
suppose  was  in  it?" 

"Whisky,"  said  Si  and  Shorty  simultaneously, 
with  a  shout  of  laughter. 

"That's  jest  what  it  wuz.  I  wuz  never  so  mortified 
in  my  life.  I  couldn't  say  a  word.  The  Lieutenant 
abused  me  for  being  a  partner  in  sellin'  whisky  to 
the  soldiers — me,  Josiah  Klegg,  Patriarch  of  the 
Sons  o'  Temperance,  and  a  Deacon.  While  I  wuz 
tryin'  to  tell  him  he  jabbed  his  sword  into  the  can 
o'  peaches,  and  what  do  you  suppose  was  in  that?" 

"Whisky,"  yelled  Si  and  Shorty,  with  another 
burst  of  laughter. 

"That's  jest  what  it  wuz.  Then  one  o'  the  Lieu 
tenant's  men  jerked  the  chunk  o'  cheese  away  and 


THE    DEACON    IS    TROUBLED.  283 

broke  it  open.     And  what  do  you  suppose  was  in 
that?" 

"Whisky,  of  course,"  yelled  the  boys  in  uncon 
trollable  mirth. 

"That's  jest  what  it  was.  I  wuz  so  dumfounded 
that  I  couldn't  say  a  word.  They  yanked  me  around 
in  behind  the  squad,  and  told  me  they'd  shave  my 
head  and  drum  me  out  o'  camp.  The  Lieutenant 
took  his  men  up  to  the  grocery  and  tore  it  down,  and 
ketched  the  feller  that  wuz  keepin'  it.  They  put 
him  alongside  o'  me,  and  tuk  us  up  to  the  guard 
house.  On  the  way  he  whispered  to  me  that  they 
wuz  likely  to  salt  him,  'cause  they  knowed  him,  but 
I'd  likely  git  off  easy.  He'd  made  $500  clean  out  o' 
the  business  already,  and  had  it  in  his  clothes.  He'd 
pass  it  over  to  me  to  keep  till  the  racket  wuz  over, 
when  he'd  divide  fair  and  square  with  me.  I 
told  him  that  I'd  rather  burn  my  hand  off  than  tech 
a  dirty  dollar  o'  his  money,  but  he  dropt  it  into  my 
overcoat  pocket  all  the  same,  and  I  wuz  so  excited 
that  I  clean  forgot  about  it,  and  brung  it  away  with 
me.  When  we  -got  to  the  guard-house  they  tuk  all 
the  rest  of  his  money  away,  shaved  his  head,  and 
drummed  him  out  o'  camp." 

"Yes,  we  saw  that,"  answered  Si ;  "but  didn't  pay 
no  attention  to  it.  They're  drummin'  some  feller 
out  o'  camp  nearly  every  day,  for  something  or 
other." 

"I  don't  see  that  it  does  any  good,"  said  Shorty. 
"It'd  be  a  heap  better  to  set  'em  to  work  on  the 
fortifications.  That'd  take  the  deviltry  out  o'  'em." 

"When  they'd  got  through  with  him,"  continued 
th°  Deacon,  "they  Burned  *heir  attention  to  me.  I 


234  SI  KLEGG. 

never  wuz  so  scared  in  all  my  born  days.  But  luckily, 
jest  in  the  nick  o'  time,  I  ketched  sight  o'  Capt. 
McGillicuddy,  and  hollered  to  him.  He  come  up  and 
explained  things,  and  they  let  me  go,  with  lots  o' 
apologies.  When  I  got  back  to  the  house,  I  felt 
for  my  handkerchief,  and  found  that  scalawag's  roll 
o'  bills,  which  I'd  clean  forgot.  Here  it  is." 

He  pulled  out  a  fat  roll  of  crisp  greenbacks.  Si 
took  them,  thumbed  them  over  admiringly,  counted 
them,  and  handed  them  to  Shorty,  who  did  the  same. 

"Yes,  there's  $500  there,"  said  Si.  "What  are 
you  goin'  to  do  with  it,  Pap?" 

"That's  jest  what's  worrying  the  life  out  o'  me," 
answered  his  father.  "By  rights  I  ought  to  throw 
the  condemned  stuff  into  the  fire,  only  I  hold  it  a 
great  sin  to  destroy  property  of  any  kind." 

"What,  burn  all  that  good  money  up?"  said  Shorty 
with  a  whistle.  "You  don't  live  in  an  insane  asylum 
when  you're  at  home,  do  you?" 

"  'Twouldn't  be  right  to  burn  it,  Pap,"  said  Si,  who 
better  understood  the  rigidity  of  his  father's  prin 
ciples.  "It'd  do  a  mighty  sight  o'  good  somewhere." 

"The  money  don't  belong  at  all  to  that  feller," 
mused  the  Deacon.  "A  man  can't  have  no  property 
in  likker.  It's  wet  damnation,  hell's  broth,  to  nour 
ish  murderers,  thieves,  and  paupers.  It  is  the  devil's 
essence,  with  which  he  makes  widows  and  orphans. 
Every  dollar  of  it  is  minted  with  women's  tears  and 
children's  cries  of  hunger.  That  feller  got  the  money 
by  violatin'  the  law  on  the  one  hand  and  swindling 
the  soldiers  on  the  other,  and  corruptin'  them  to 
their  ruin.  To  give  the  money  back  to  him  would 
be  rewardin'  him  for  his  rascality.  It'd  be  like 


THE    DEACON    IS    TROUBLED. 


235 


givin'  a  thief  his  booty,  or  a  burglar  his  plunder, 
and  make  me  his  pardner." 

"You're  right  there,  Pap,"  assented  Si.  "You'd 
jest  be  settin'  him  up  in  business  in  some  other 
stand.  Five  hundred  dollars'd  give  him  a  good  start. 
His  hair'll  soon  grow  agin." 


'PULLED  OUT  A  FAT  ROLL  OF  GREENBACKS. 


"The  worst  of  it,"  sighed  Shorty,  "is  that  it  ain't 
good  likker.  Otherwise  it'd  be  different.  But  it's 
pizener  than  milk-sick  or  loco-weed.  It's  aqua-fortis, 
fish-berries,  tobacco  juice  and  ratsbane.  That  stuff'd 
eat  a  hole  in  a  tin  pan." 


236  SI  KLBGG. 

"The  Captain  turned  the  rest  o'  his  money  over  to 
the  hospital,"  continued  the  Deacon.  "I  might  do 
that." 

"Never  do  it  in  the  world,  Pap,"  protested  Si. 
"Better  burn  it  up  at  once.  It'd  be  the  next  worst 
thing  to  givin'  it  back  to  him.  It'd  jest  be  pamperin' 
and  encouragin'  a  lot  o'  galoots  that  lay  around  the 
hospitals  to  keep  out  o'  fights.  None  o'  the  wounded 
or  really  sick'd  git  the  benefit  of  a  cent  of  it.  They 
wuz  all  sent  away  weeks  ago  to  Nashville,  Louis 
ville,  and  back  home.  You  jest  ought  to  see  that 
bummer  gang.  Last  week  me  and  Shorty  wuz  on 
fatigue  duty  down  by  one  o'  the  hospitals.  There 
wuzzent  nobody  in  the  hospital  but  a  few  'shell-fever' 
shirks,  who're  too  lazy  to  work  on  the  fortifications, 
and  we  saw  a  crowd  of  civilians  and  men  in  uniform 
set  down  to  a  finer  dinner  than  you  kin  git  in  any 
hotel.  Shorty  wanted  to  light  some  shells  and  roll  in 
amongst  'em,  but  I  knowed  that  it'd  jest  make  a 
muss  that  we'd  have  to  clean  up  afterward." 

"But  what  am  I  going  to  do  with  it?"  asked  the 
Deacon  despairingly.  "I  don't  want  no  money  in 
my  hands  that  don't  belong  to  me,  and  especially  sich 
money  as  that,  which  seems  to  have  a  curse  to  every 
bill.  If  we  could  only  find  out  the  men  he  tuk  it 
from" 

"Be  about  as  easy  as  drivin'  a  load  o'  hay  back 
into  the  field,  and  fitting  each  spear  o'  grass  back  on 
the  stalk  from  which  it  was  cut,"  interjected  Shorty. 

"Or  I  might  send  it  anonymously  to  the  Baptist 
Board  o'  Missions,"  continued  the  Deacon. 

"Nice  way  to  treat  the  little  heathens,"  objected 
Si.  "Send  them  likker  money." 


THE    DEACON    IS    TROUBLED.  237 

The  Deacon  groaned. 

"Tell  you  what  we  might  do,  Pap,"  said  Si,  as  a 
bright  idea  struck  him.  "There's  a  widder,  a  Union 
woman,  jest  outside  the  lines,  whose  house  wuz 
burned  down  by  the  rebels.  She  could  build  a  splen 
did  new  house  with  $100 — better'n  the  one  she  wuz 
livin'  in  before.  Send  her  $100. 

"Not  a  bad  idee,"  said  the  Deacon  approvingly,  as 
he  poked  the  ashes  in  his  pipe  with  his  little  finger. 

"And,  Pap,"  continued  Si,  encouraged  by  the  re 
ception  of  this  suggestion,  "there's  poor  Bill  Eller- 
lee,  who  lost  his  leg  in  the  fight.  He  used  to  drink 
awful  hard,  and  most  of  his  money  went  down  his 
throat.  He's  got  a  wife  and  two  small  children,  and 
they  hain't  a  cent  to  live  on,  except  what  the  neigh 
bors  gives.  Why  not  put  up  $200  in  an  express  pack 
age  and  send  it  to  him,  marked  'from  an  unknown 
friend?'" 

"Good,"  acorded  the  Deacon. 

"And  Jim  Pocock,"  put  in  Shorty,  seeing  the 
drift.  "He's  gone  home  with  a  bullet  through  his 
breast.  His  folks  are  pretty  poor.  Why  not  send 
him  $100  the  same  way?" 

"Excellent  idee,"  said  the  father. 

"That  leaves  $100  yit,"  said  Si.  "If  you  care  to, 
you  kin  divide  it  between  Shorty  and  me,  and  we'll 
use  it  among  the  boys  that  got  hurt,  and  need  some 
thing." 

A  dubious  look  came  into  the  Deacon's  face. 

"You  needn't  be  afeared  of  us,  Pap,"  said  Si,  with 
a  little  blush.  "I  kin  promise  you  that  we  won't  use 
a  cent  ourselves,  but  give  every  bit  where  it  is 
really  needed." 


238  SI  KLEGG. 

"I  believe  you,  my  son,"  said  the  Deacon  heartily. 
"We'll  do  jest  as  you  say." 

They  spent  the  evening  carrying  their  plan  into 
execution. 

At  the  9  o'clock  roll-call  the  Orderly- Sergeant  an 
nounced  : 

"Co.  Q  to  go  out  with  a  forage-train  to-morrow 
morning." 

This  was  joyful  news — a  delightful  variation  from 
the  toil  on  the  fortifications.  "Taps"  found  every 
body  getting  his  gun  and  traps  ready  for  an  ex 
cursion  into  the  country. 

"You'd  like  to  go  with  us,  Pap,  wouldn't  you?" 
asked  Si,  as  he  looked  over  his  cartridge-box  to  see 
what  it  contained. 

"Indeed  I  would,"  replied  the  father.  "I'll  go  any 
where  with  you  rather  than  spend  such  another  day 
in  camp.  You  don't  think  you  will  see  any  rebels, 
do  you?"  he  asked  rather  nervously. 

"Don't  know;  never  kin  tell,"  said  Shorty  oracu 
larly.  "Eebels  is  anywhere  you  find  'em.  Sometimes 
they're  seldomer  than  a  chaw  of  terbaker  in  a  Sun 
day  school.  You  can't  find  one  in  a  whole  County. 
Then,  the  first  thing  you  know,  they're  thicker'n 
fleas  on  a  dog's  back.  But  we  won't  likely  see  no 
rebels  to-morrow.  There  ain't  no  great  passel  o' 
them  this  side  o'  Duck  River.  Still,  we'll  take  our 
guns  along,  jest  like  a  man  wears  a  breast-pin  on 
a  dark  night,  because  he's  used  to  it." 

"Can't  you  give  me  a  gun,  too?  I  think  it'd  be 
company  for  me,"  said  the  Deacon. 

"Certainly,"  said  Si. 

The  Deacon  stowed  himself  in  the  wagons  with 


THE    DEACON    IS    TROUBLED.  239 

the  rest  the  next  morning,  and  rode  out  with  them 
through  the  bright  sunshine,  that  gave  promise  of 
the  soon  oncoming  of  Spring.  For  miles  they  jolted 
over  the  execrable  roads  and  through  the  shiftless, 
run-down  country  before  they  found  anything  worth 
while  putting  in  the  wagons. 

"Great  country,  Pap,"  said  Si  suggestively. 

"Yes;  it'd  be  a  great  country,"  said  his  father 
disdainfully,  "if  you  could  put  a  wagonload  o'  man 
ure  on  every  foot  and  import  some  Injianny  men 
to  take  care  of  it.  The  water  and  the  sunshine 
down  here  seem  all  right,  but  the  land  and  the  peo 
ple  and  the  pigs  and  stock  seem  to  be  cullin's  throwed 
out  when  they  made  Injianny." 

At  length  the  train  halted  by  a  double  log  house 
of  much  more  pretentious  character  than  any  they 
had  so  far  seen.  There  were  a  couple  of  well-filled 
corn-cribs,  a  large  stack  of  fodder,  and  other  evi 
dences  of  plenty.  The  Deacon's  practiced  eye  noticed 
that  there  was  no  stock  in  the  fields,  but  Si  ex 
plained  this  by  saying  that  everything  on  hoofs  had 
been  driven  off  to  supply  the  rebel  army.  "They're 
now  trying  to  git  a  corn-crib  and  a  fodder-stack 
with  four  legs,  but  hain't  succeeded  so  far." 

The  Captain  ordered  the  fence  thrown  down  and 
the  wagons  driven  in  to  be  filled.  The  surrounding 
horizon  was  scanned  for  signs  of  rebels,  but  none 
appeared  anywhere.  The  landscape  was  as  tranquil, 
as  peace-breathing  as  a  Spring  morning  on  the 
Wabash,  and  the  Deacon's  mind  reverted  to  the  con 
dition  of  things  on  his  farm.  It  was  too  wet  to  plow, 
but  he  would  like  to  take  a  walk  over  the  fields  and 
see  how  his  wheat  had  come  out,  and  look  over  the 


240  SI  KLEGG. 

peach-buds  and  ascertain  how  they  had  stood  the 
Winter.  He  noticed  how  some  service-trees  had  al 
ready  unfolded  their  white  petals,  like  flags  of  truce 
breaking  the  long  array  of  green  cedars  and  rusty- 
brown  oaks. 

The  company  stacked  arms  in  the  road,  the  Cap 
tain  went  to  direct  the  filling  of  the  wagons,  and 
Si  and  Shorty  started  on  a  private  reconnoissance 
for  something  for  their  larder. 

The  Deacon  strolled  around  the  yard  for  awhile 
inspecting  the  buildings  and  farm  implements  with 
an  eye  of  professional  curiosity,  and  arrived  at  very 
unfavorable  opinions.  He  then  walked  up  on  the 
porch  of  the  house,  where  a  woman  of  about  his 
own  age  sat  in  a  split-bottom  rocking-chair  knitting 
and  viewing  the  proceedings  with  frowning  eyes. 

"Good  day,  ma'am,"  said  he.  "Warm  day, 
ma'am." 

"  'Tain't  as  warm  as  it  orter  to  be  for  sich  fellers 
as  yo'uns,"  she  snapped.  "You'd  better  be  in  the 
brimstone  pit  if  you  had  your  just  deserts." 

The  Deacon  always  tried  to  be  good-humored  with 
an  angry  woman,  and  he  thought  he  would  try  the 
effect  of  a  little  pleasantry.  "I'm  a  Baptist,  ma'am, 
and  they  say  us  Baptists  are  tryin'  to  put  out  that 
fire  with  cold  water." 

"You  a  Babtist?"  she  answered  scornfully.  "The 
hot  place  is  full  o'  jest  sich  Babtists  as  yo'uns  air, 
and  they're  making  room  for  more.  We'uns  air 
Babtists  ourselves,  but,  thank  the  Lord,  not  o'  your 
kind.  Babtists  air  honest  people.  Babtists  don't 
go  about  the  country  robbin'  and  murderin'  and 
stealin'  folks'  corn.  Don't  tell  me  you  air  a  Babtist, 


THE    DEACON    IS    TROUBLED.  241 

for  I  know  you  air  a-lyin',  and  that's  the  next  thing 
to  killin'  and  stealin'." 

"But  I  am  a  Baptist,"  persisted  the  Deacon,  "and 
have  bin  for  30  year — regular,  free-will,  close-com 
munion,  total-immersion  Baptist.  We  have  some 
Campbellites,  a  few  Six  Principle  Baptists,  and  some 
Hard  Shells,  but  the  heft  of  us  air  jest  plain,  straight- 
out  Baptists.  But,  speakin'  o'  cold  water,  kin  you 
give  me  a  drink?  I'm  powerful  dry." 

"Thar's  water  down  in  the  crick,  thar,"  she  said, 
with  a  motion  of  her  knitting  in  that  direction.  "It's 
as  fur  for  me  as  it  is  for  you.  Go  down  thar  and 
drink  all  you  like.  Lucky  you  can't  carry  the  crick 
away  with  yo'uns.  Yo'uns  'd  steal  it  if  yo'uns 
could." 

"You  don't  seem  to  be  in  a  good  humor,  ma'am," 
said  the  Deacon,  maintaining  his  pleasant  demeanor 
and  tone. 

"Well,  if  you  think  that  a  passel  o'  nasty  Yankees 
is  kalkerlated  to  put  a  lady  in  a  good  humor  you're 
even  a  bigger  fool  than  you  look.  But  I  hain't  no 
time  to  waste  jawin'  you.  If  you  want  a  drink 
thar's  the  crick.  Go  and  drink  your  fill  of  it.  I 
only  wish  it  was  a's'nic,  to  pizen  you  and  your  whole 
army." 

She  suddenly  stopped  knitting,  and  bent  her  eyes 
eagerly  on  an  opening  in  the  woods  on  a  hill-top 
whence  the  road  wound  down  to  the  house.  The 
Deacon's  eyes  followed  hers,  and  he  saw  unmistak 
able  signs  of  men  in  butternut  clothes.  The  woman 
saw  that  he  noticed  them,  and  her  manner  changed. 

"Come  inside  the  house,"  she  said  pleasantly,  "and 
I'll  git  you  a  gourdful  of  water  fresh  from  the 
spring." 


242  SI   KLEGG. 

"Thankee,  ma'am;  I  don't  feel  a  bit  dry,"  an 
swered  the  Deacon,  with  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  hill 
top.  "Si,  Shorty,  Capt.  McGillicuddy,"  he  yelled. 

"Shet  your  head,  and  come  into  the  house  this 
minit,  you  nasty  Yankee,  or  I'll  slash  your  fool  head 
off,"  ordered  the  woman,  picking  up  a  corn-cutter 
the  advantage  of  his  position  and  ran  up  to  him. 

The  Deacon  was  inside  the  railing  around  the 
porch,  and  he  had  not  jumped  a  fence  for  20  years. 
But  he  cleared  the  railing  as  neatly  as  Si  could  have 
done  it,  and  ran  bareheaded  down  the  road,  yelling 
at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

He  was  not  a  minute  too  soon — not  soon  enough. 
A  full  company  of  rebel  cavalry  came  dashing  out 
of  the  woods,  yelling  like  demons. 

Without  waiting  to  form,  the  men  of  Co.  Q  ran 
to  their  guns  and  began  firing  from  fence-corners 
and  behind  trees.  Capt.  McGillicuddy  took  the  first 
squad  that  he  came  to,  and,  running  forward  a  little 
way,  made  a  hasty  line  and  opened  fire.  Others  saw 
the  advantage  of  his  position  and  ran  up  to  him. 

The  Deacon  snatched  up  a  gun  and  joined  the 
Captain. 

"I  never  wuz  subject  to  the  'buck  fever/  "  he 
muttered  to  himself,  "and  I  won't  allow  myself  to 
be  now.  I  remember  jest  how  Gineral  Jackson  told 
his  men  to  shoot  down  to  New  Orleans.  I'm  going 
to  salt  one  o'  them  fellers  as  sure  as  my  name's 
Josiah  Klegg." 

He  took  a  long  breath,  to  steady  himself,  as  he 
joined  the  Captain,  picked  out  a  man  on  a  bay  horse 
that  seemed  to  be  the  rebels'  Captain,  and  caught 
his  breast  fully  through  the  hindsight  before  he 


THE    DEACON     IS    TROUBLED.  243 

pulled  the  trigger.     Through  the  smoke  he  saw  his 
man  tumble  from  his  horse. 

"Got  him,  anyway,"  he  muttered;  "now,  how  in 
the  world  kin  I  load  this  plaguey  gun  agin?" 

At  that  instant  a  rebel  bullet  bit  out  a  piece  of  his 
ear,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  it. 

"Gi'  me  that  cartridge,"  he  said  to  the  man  next 
to  him,  who  had  just  bitten  off  the  end  of  one;  "I 
can't  do  it." 

The  man  handed  him  the  cartridge,  which  the 
Deacon  rammed  home,  but  before  he  could  find  a 
cap  the  fight  was  over,  and  the  rebels  were  seek 
ing  the  shelter  of  the  woods. 

The  Deacon  managed  to  get  a  cap  on  his  gun  in 
time  to  take  a  long-distance,  ineffective  shot  at  the 
rebels  as  they  disappeared  in  the  woods. 

They  hastily  buried  one  rebel  who  had  been  killed, 
and  picked  up  those  who  had  been  wounded  and 
carried  them  into  the  house,  where  they  were  made 
as  comfortable  as  possible.  Among  them  was  the 
man  whom  the  Deacon  had  aimed  at.  He  was  found 
to  have  a  wound  through  the  fleshy  part  of  his  hip, 
and  proved  to  be  the  son  of  the  woman  of  the  house. 

As  soon  as  the  fight  was  over,  Si,  full  of  solici 
tude,  sought  his  father.  He  found  him  wiping  the 
blood  from  his  ear  with  his  bandanna. 

"It's  nothin',  son;  absolutely  nothin',"  said  the 
old  gentleman  with  as  much  pride  as  any  recruit. 
"Don't  hurt  as  much  as  a  scratch  from  a  briar. 
Some  feller  what  couldn't  write  put  his  mark  on  me 
so's  he'd  know  me  agin.  But  I  fetched  that  feller 
on  the  bay  hoss.  I'm  glad  I  didn't  kill  him,  but  he'll 
keep  out  o'  devilment  for  sometime. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE    DEACON    BUTTS    IN  —  ENFORCES    THE    EMANCIPA- 
TION  PROCLAMATION. 


44T)AP,"  said  Si,  as  they  were  riding  back,  com 

fortably  seated  on  a  load  of  corn-fodder, 

"now  that  it's  all  over,  I'm  awfully  scared 

about  you.     I  can't  forgive  myself  for  runnin'  you 

up  agin  such  a  scrape.     I  hadn't  no  idee  that  there 

wuz  a  rebel  in  the.  whole  County.     If  anything  had 

happened  you  it'd  just  killed  mother  and  the  girls, 

and  then  I'd  never  rested  till  I  got  shot  myself,  for 

.1  wouldn't  wanted  to  live  a  minute." 

"Pshaw,  my  son,"  responded  his  father  rather 
testily;  "you  ain't  my  guardeen,  and  I  hope  it'll  be 
a  good  many  years  yit  before  you  are.  I'm  mighty 
glad  that  I  went.  There  was  something  Providen 
tial  in  it.  I'm  a  good  deal  of  a  Quaker.  I  believe 
in  the  movin's  of  the  spirit.  The  spirit  moved  me 
very  strongly  to  go  with  you,  and  I  now  see  the 
purpose  in  it.  If  I  hadn't,  them  fellers  might've  got 
the  bulge  on  you.  I  seen  them  before  any  o'  you  did, 
and  I  fetched  down  their  head  devil,  and  I  feel  that 
I  helped  you  a  good  deal." 

"Indeed  you  did,"  said  Shorty  earnestly.  "You 
ought  to  have  a  brevet  for  your  'conspicuous  gal 
lantry  in  action.'  I  think  the  Colonel  will  give  you 
one.  You  put  an  ounce  o'  lead  to  particularly  good 


THE    DEACON    BUTTS    IN.  245 

use  in  that  feller's  karkiss.  I  only  wish  it'd  bin  a 
little  higher  up,  where  it'd  a  measured  him  for  a 
wooden  overcoat." 

"I'm  awful  glad  I  hit  him  jest  where  I  did,"  re 
sponded  the  Deacon.  "I  did  have  his  heart  covered 
with  my  sights,  and  then  I  pulled  down  a  little.  He 
was  pizen,  I  know ;  but  I  wanted  to  give  him  a  chance 
to  repent." 

"He'll  repent  a  heap,"  said  Shorty  incredulously. 
"He'll  lay  around  the  house  for  the  next  six  months, 
studyin'  up  new  deviltry,  and  what  he  can't  think 
of  that  secesh  mother  o'  his'll  put  him  up  to.  Co. 
Q,  and  particularly  the  Hoosier's  Rest,  is  the  only 
place  you'll  find  a  contrite  heart  and  a  Christian 
spirit  cultivated." 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Si ;  "we  hain't  licked  the 
Wagonmaster  yit  for  throwin'  cartridges  down  our 
chimbley." 

"Blamed  if  that  ain't  so,"  said  Shorty.  "I  knowed 
I'd  forgotten  some  little  thing.  It's  bin  hauntin'  my 
mind  for  days.  I'll  jest  tie  a  knot  in  my  handker 
chief  to  remember  that  I  must  tend  to  that  as  soon's 
we  git  back." 

"I'm  quite  sure  that  I  don't  want  another  sich  a 
tussle,"  meditated  the  Deacon.  "I  never  heerd  any 
thing  sound  so  murderin'  wicked  as  them  bullets.  A 
painter's  screech  on  a  dark  night  or  a  rattler's  rattle 
wuzzent  to  be  compared  to  'em.  It  makes  my  blood 
run  cold  to  think  o'  'em.  Then,  if  that  feller  that 
shot  at  me  had  wobbled  his  gun  a  little  to  the  left, 
Josiah  Klegg's  name  would  've  bin  sculped  on  a  slab 
o'  white  marble,  and  Maria  would  've  bin  the  Widder 
Klegg.  I  wish  the  war  wuz  over,  and  Si  and  Shorty 


246 


SI  KLEGG. 


safe  at  home.  But  their  giddy  young  pates  are  so  full 
o'  dumbed  nonsense  that  there  hain't  no  room  for 
scare.  But,  now  that  I'm  safe  through  it,  I  wouldn't 
've  missed  it  for  the  best  cow  on  my  place.  After 


TM  GWINE  TER  KILL  YE,  RIGHT  HERE/ 


all,  Providence  sends  men  where  they  are  needed, 
and  He  certainly  sent  me  out  there. 

"Then,  I'll  have  a  good  story  to  tell  the  brethren 
and  sisters  some  night  after  prayer  meetin's  over. 
It'll  completely  offset  that  story  'bout  my  comin'  so 
near  gittin'  my  head  shaved.  How  the  ungodly 


THE    DEACON    BUTTS    IN.  247 

rapscallions  would've  gloated  over  Deacon  Klegg's 
havin'  his  head  shaved  an'  bein'  drummed  out  o' 
camp.  That  thing  makes  me  shiver  worse'n  the 
whistlin'  o'  them  awful  bullets.  But  they  can't  say 
nothin'  now.  Deacon  Klegg's  bin  a  credit  to  the 
church." 

They  were  nearing  camp.  The  Captain  of  Co.  Q 
ordered : 

"Corporal  Klegg,  take  your  wagon  up  that  right- 
hand  road  to  the  Quartermaster's  corral  of  mules, 
and  bring  me  a  receipt  for  it." 

Si  turned  the  wagon  off,  and  had  gone  but  a  few 
hundred  yards,  when  he  and  Shorty  saw  a  house 
at  a  little  distance,  which  seemed  to  promise  to  fur 
nish  something  eatable.  He  and  Shorty  jumped  off 
and  cut  across  the  fields  toward  it,  telling  the 
Deacon  they  would  rejoin  him  before  he  reached  the 
picket-line,  a  mile  or  so  ahead. 

The  Deacon  jogged  on,  musing  intently  of  the  stir 
ring  events  of  the  day,  until  he  was  recalled  to  the 
things  immediately  around  him  by  hearing  a  loud 
voice  shout: 

"Stop,  there,  you  black  scoundrel!  I've  ketched 
ye.  I'm  gwine  to  blow  your  onery  head  off." 

He  looked  up  and  saw  a  man  about  his  own  age, 
dressed  in  butternut  homespun,  and  riding  a  fine 
horse.  He  wore  a  broad-brimmed  slouch  hat,  his 
clean-shaven  face  was  cold  and  cruel,  and  he  had 
leveled  a  double-barreled  shotgun  on  a  fine-looking 
negro,  who  had  leaped  over  from  the  field  into  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  was  standing  there  regard 
ing  him  with  a  look  of  intense  disappointment  and 
fear. 


248  SI  KLEGG. 

"You  devil's  ape,"  continued  the  white  man,  with 
a  torrent  of  profanity,  "I've  ketched  ye  jest  in  the 
nick  o'  time.  Ye  wuz  makin'  for  the  Yankee  camp, 
and  'd  almost  got  thar.  Ye  thought  yer  40  acres 
and  a  mule  wuz  jest  in  sight,  did  ye?  Mebbe  ye 
reckoned  y'd  git  a  white  wife,  and  be  an  officer  in 
the  Yankee  army.  I'm  gwine  to  kill  ye,  right  here, 
to  stop  yer  deviltry,  and  skeer  off  others  that  air  o' 
the  same  mind." 

"Pray  God,  don't  kill  me,  massa,"  begged  the 
negro.  "I  hain't  done  nuffin'  to  be  killed  foh." 

"Hain't  done  nothin'  to  be  killed  for !"  shouted  the 
white  man,  with  more  oaths.  "Do  ye  call  sneakin' 
off  to  jine  the  enemy  and  settin'  an  example  to  the 
other  niggers  nothin'?  Git  down  on  yer  knees  and 
say  yer  prayers,  if  ye  know  any,  for  ye  ain't  a  min- 
nit  to  live." 

The  trembling  negro  dropped  to  his  knees  and  be 
gan  mumbling  his  prayers. 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  asked  the  Deacon  of  the 
teamster. 

"0,  some  man's  ketched  his  nigger  tryin'  to  run 
away  to  our  lines,  an's  goin'  to  kill  him,"  answered 
the  teamster  indifferently. 

"Goin'  to  kill  him,"  gasped  the  Deacon.  "Are  we 
goin'  to  'low  that?" 

"  *Tain't  none  o'  my  business,"  said  the  teamster 
coolly.  "It's  his  nigger;  I  reckon  he's  a  right  to  do 
as  he  pleases." 

"I  don't  reckon  nothin'  o'  the  kind,"  said  the 
Deacon  indignantly.  "I  won't  stand  and  see  it  done." 

"Better  not  mix  in,"  admonished  the  teamster. 
"Them  air  Southerners  is  pretty  savage  folks,  and 


THE    DEACON    BUTTS    IN.  249 

don't  like  any  meddlin'  twixt  them  and  their  niggers. 
What's  a  nigger,  anyway?" 

"Amounts  to  about  as  much  as  a  white-livered 
teamster,"  said  the  Deacon  hotly.  "I'm  goin'  to  mix 
in.  I'll  not  see  any  man  murdered  while  I'm  around. 
Say,  you,"  to  the  white  man ;  "what  are  you  goin'  ter 
do  with  that  man?" 

"Mind  yer  own  bizniss,"  replied  the  white  man, 
after  a  casual  glance  at  the  Deacon,  and  seeing  that 
he  did  not  wear  a  uniform.  "Keep  yer  mouth  shet 
if  ye  know  when  y're  well  off." 

"0,  massa,  save  me!  save  me!"  said  the  negro, 
jumping  up  and  running  toward  the  Deacon,  who 
had  slipped  down  from  the  fodder,  and  was  stand 
ing  in  the  road. 

"All  right,  Sambo;  don't  be  scared.  He  sha'n't 
kill  you  while  I'm  around,"  said  the  Deacon. 

"I  tell  ye  agin  to  mind  yer  own  bizniss  and  keep 
yer  mouth  shet,"  said  the  white  man  savagely.  "Who 
air  ye,  anyway?  One  o'  them  slinkin'  nigger-stealin' 
Abolitionists,  comin'  down  here  to  rob  us  South 
erners  of  our  property?" 

He  followed  this  with  a  torrent  of  profane  denun 
ciation  of  the  "whole  Abolition  crew." 

"Look  here,  Mister,"  said  the  Deacon  calmly, 
reaching  back  into  the  wagon  and  drawing  out  a 
musket,  "I'm  a  member  o'  the  church  and  a  peaceable 
man.  But  I  don't  'low  no  man  to  call  me  names,  and 
I  object  to  swearin'  of  all  kinds.  I  want  to  argy 
this  question  with  you,  quietly,  as  between  man  and 
man." 

He  looked  down  to  see  if  there  was  a  cap  on  the 
gun. 


250  SI  KLEGG. 

"What's  the  trouble  'twixt  you  and  this  man 
here?" 

"That  ain't  no  man,"  said  the  other  hotly.  "That's 
my  nigger — bought  with  my  money.  He's  my  prop 
erty.  I've  ketched  him  tryin'  to  run  away — tryin' 
to  rob  me  of  $1,200  worth  o'  property  and  give  it  to 
our  enemies.  I'm  gwine  to  kill  him  to  stop  others 
from  doin'  the  same  thing." 

"Indeed  you're  not,"  said  the  Deacon,  putting  his 
thumb  on  the  hammer. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you'll  stop  me?"  said  the 
master,  starting  to  raise  his  shotgun,  which  he  had 
let  fall  a  little. 

"Something  like  that,  if  not  the  exact  words,"  an 
swered  the  Deacon  calmly,  looking  at  the  sights  of 
the  musket  with  an  interested  air. 

The  master  resumed  his  volley  of  epithets. 

The  Deacon's  face  became  very  rigid,  and  the 
musket  was  advanced  to  a  more  threatening  position. 
"I  told  you  before,"  he  said,  "that  I  didn't  allow  no 
man  to  call  me  sich  names.  I  give  you  warnin'  agin. 
I'm  liable  to  fall  from  grace,  as  the  Methodists  say, 
any  minnit.  I'm  dumbed  sure  to  if  you  call  me  an 
other  name." 

The  master  glared  at  the  musket.  It  was  clearly 
in  hands  used  to  guns,  and  the  face  behind  it  was 
not  that  of  a  man  to  be  fooled  with  beyond  a  certain 
limit.  He  lowered  his  shotgun,  and  spoke  sharply 
to  the  negro: 

"Sam,  git  'round  here  in  front  of  the  hoss,  and  put 
for  home  at  once." 

"Stay  where  you  are,  till  I  finish  talkin'  to  this 
man,"  commanded  the  Deacon.  "Are  you  a  loyal 
man?"  he  inquired  of  the  master. 


THE    DEACON    BUTTS    IN.  251 

"If  ye  mean  loil  to  that  rail-splittin'  gorilla  in 
Washington,"  replied  the  master,  hotly;  "to  that  low- 
down,  nigger-lovin',  nigger-stealin'  " 

"Shet  right  up,"  said  the  Deacon,  bringing  up  his 
gun  in  a  flash  of  anger.  "You  sha'n't  abuse  the  Pres 
ident  o'  the  United  States  any  more'n  you  shall  me, 
nor  half  so  much.  He's  your  President,  whom  you 
must  honor  and  respect.  I  won't  have  him  black 
guarded  by  an  unhung  rebel.  You  say  yourself  you're 
a  rebel.  Then  you  have  no  right  whatever  to  this  man, 
and  I'm  goin'  to  confiscate  him  in  the  name  o' 
Abraham  Lincoln,  President  o'  the  United  States, 
an'  accordin'  to  his  proclamation  of  emancipation, 
done  at  Washington,  District  o'  Columbia,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  eighteen  hundred  and  sixty-three 
and  of  our  Independence  the  87th. 

"Now,  you  jest  turn  your  hoss  around  and  vacate 
these  parts  as  quick  as  you  can,  and  leave  me  and 
this  colored  man  alone.  We're  tired  o'  havin'  you 
'round." 

The  master  was  a  man  of  sense.  He  knew  that 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  obey. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


THE  PERPLEXED  DEACON — TROUBLED  TO  KNOW  WHAT 
TO  DO  WITH  THE  FREEDMAN. 

HAT  is  yer  a-gwine  tub  do  wid  me, 
mas'r?"  asked  the  negro,  with  a  look 
and  an  attitude  curiously  like  a  forlorn 
stray  dog  which  had  at  last  found  an  owner  and 
protector. 

"Wish  to  gracious  I  knowed,"  answered  the  Dea 
con,  knitting  his  brows  in  thought.  "I  don't  know 
as  I've  anything  to  do  with  you.  I've  about  as  much 
idee  what  to  do  with  you  as  I  would  with  a  whale 
in  the  Wabash  River.  I'm  neither  John  Brown  nor 
a  colonization  society.  I've  about  as  much  use  for  a 
nigger,  free  or  slave,  as  a  frog  has  for  a  tail.  You're 
free  now — that's  all  there  is  of  it.  Nobody's  got 
nothin'  to  do  with  you.  You've  got  to  do  with  your 
self — that's  all.  You're  your  own  master.  You  go 
your  way  and  let  other  folks  go  theirs." 

In  the  simplicity  of  his  heart  the  Deacon  thought 
he  had  covered  the  whole  ground.  What  more  could 
the  man  want,  who  had  youth,  health  and  strength, 
than  perfect  liberty  to  go  where  he  pleased  and  strive 
for  what  he  wanted? 

The  negro  looked  dazed  and  perplexed. 

"Isn't  yo'  a-gwine  tuh  take  me  wid  yo',  mas'r?" 
he  asked. 

"Take  you  with  me!"  repeated  the  Deacon  in  as- 


THE    PERPLEXED    DEACON.  253 

tonishment  and  some  petulance.  "Certainly  not.  I 
don't  want  you.  And  you  mustn't  call  me  master. 
You  mustn't  call  any  man  master.  You're  no  longer 
a  slave.  You're  your  own  master.  You're  free; 
don't  you  understand?" 

"But  whah'm  I  tuh  go?"  reiterated  the  negro  hope 
lessly. 

"Go  where  you  please,"  repeated  the  Deacon  with 
impatience.  "The  whole  world's  open  to  you.  Go 
to  the  next  County;  go  to  Kaintucky,  Injianny,  Ohio, 
Illinoy,  Kamskatky,  New  Guiney,  Jericho,  or  Polkin- 
horn's  tanyard  if  you  like." 

"Afo'  God,  I  don't  know  what  tuh  do,  or  wha  tuh 
go,"  said  the  negro  despairingly.  "If  yo'  leab  me 
here,  I  know  dat  ole  mas'r  '11  fin'  me  an'  done  kill  me 
daid." 

"Niggers  is  like  mules,"  remarked  Groundhog 
savagely.  "They  only  know  two  places  in  the  whole 
world:  their  master's  place  and  somewhere  else. 
They  want  to  run  away  from  their  master,  but  they 
hain't  nary  idee  whar  to  go  when  they  run  away. 
A  hoss  has  more  sense  'n  either  a  nigger  or  a  mule. 
When  he  lights  out  he's  got  some  idee  o'  where  he 
wants  t'  go.  I  tell  you;  jest  give  that  nigger  to  me. 
I  know  what  to  do  with  him.  I  know  a  man  that'll 
give  me  $100  for  him,  and  I'll  whack  up  fair  and 
square  with  you." 

"Shut  up,  you  mullet-headed  mule-whacker,"  said 
the  Deacon  irritably.  "You  hain't  got  sense  enough 
to  take  care  o'  mules  right,  let  alone  a  man.  I 
wouldn't  trust  you  an  hour  with  the  poorest  team 
on  my  place.  I'll  take  care  o'  this  man  myself,  at 
least,  until  I  kin  have  a  talk  with  the  boys.  Here, 
you  nigger,  what's  your  name?" 


254  SI  KLEGG. 

"Dey  call  me  Sam,  mas'r,"  replied  the  negro. 

"Well,  we'll  change  that.  You're  a  free  man,  and 
I'll  give  you  another  name.  I'm  goin'  to  call  you 
Abraham — Abraham  Lincoln — the  grandest  name  in 
the  world  to-day.  For  short  I'll  call  you  Abe.  You 


DO  YOU  HEAR?     GIT  ON  YOUR  MULE  AT  ONCT.' 


must  stop  callin'  me,  or  anybody,  master,  I  tell  you. 
You  just  call  be  Mister  Klegg." 

"Mistuh — what?"  said  the  negro,  puzzled. 

"Well,  jest  call  me  boss.  Now,  Abe,  climb  up  into 
the  wagon  here,  and  come  along  with  me." 


THE    PERPLEXED    DEACON.  255 

"He  can't  git  into  no  wagon  o'  mine,"  said  the 
teamster  surlily.  "Government  wagons  ain't  no  pas 
senger  coaches  for  runaway  niggers.  I  didn't  hire 
to  haul  niggers  on  pleasure  excursions.  That  ain't 
no  part  of  a  white  man's  bizniss.  Let  him  walk 
alongside." 

"You  dumbed  citizen,"  said  the  Deacon  angrily. 
He  had  been  in  camp  long  enough  to  catch  the  feeling 
of  the  men  toward  the  Quartermaster's  civilian  em 
ployees.  "This  man  shall  ride  in  this  wagon  along 
side  o'  me,  and  you'll  drive  us  into  camp,  or  I'll  find 
out  the  reason  why.  Now  jest  gether  up  your  lines 
and  start." 

"I  won't  take  no  slack  from  no  old  Wabash  hay 
seed  like  you,"  responded  the  teamster  cordially. 
"You  can't  boss  me.  You  hain't  no  right.  You  can't 
ring  me  in  to  help  you  steal  niggers,  unless  you 
divide  with  me.  You  come  out  here  in  the  road  and 
I'll  punch  that  old  sorrel-top  head  o'  your'n." 

And  the  teamster  pranced  out  and  brandished  his 
blacksnake  whip  menacingly. 

It  had  been  many  years  since  anybody  on  the 
Wabash  had  dared  Deacon  Klegg  to  a  match  in  fisti 
cuffs.  The  memory  of  some  youthful  performances 
of  his  had  secured  him  respectful  immunity.  His 
last  affair  had  been  a  severe  suppression  of  a  noted 
bully  who  attempted  to  "crowd  the  mourners"  at  a 
camp-meeting  for  the  good  order  of  which  the 
Deacon  felt  himself  somewhat  responsible.  It  took 
the  bully  six  months  to  get  over  it,  and  he  went  to 
the  mourner's  bench  himself  at  the  next  revival. 

The  Deacon  looked  at  the  gesticulating  teamster 
a  minute,  and  the  dormant  impulse  of  his  youth 


256  SI  KLEGG. 

stirred  again  within  him.  He  laid  his  gun  down 
and  calmly  slid  from  the  fodder  to  the  ground.  He 
pulled  off  his  coat  and  hat,  and  laid  them  on  the 
wagon.  He  took  the  quid  of  tobacco  from  his  mouth, 
carefully  selected  a  place  for  it  on  the  edge  of  the 
wagon-bed,  laid  it  there  on  a  piece  of  corn-husk,  and 
walked  toward  the  teamster,  rolling  up  his  sleeves. 

The  effect  upon  the  monarch  of  the  mules  was  im 
mediate  and  marked.  He  stopped  prancing  around, 
and  began  to  look  alarmed. 

"Now,  don't  you  hit  me,"  he  yelled.  "I'm  the 
driver  o'  this  team,  and  in  Gov'ment  employ.  If  you 
hit  me  I'll  have  you  courtmartialed." 

"I'm  not  goin'  to  hit  you,"  said  the  Deacon,  rais 
ing  a  fist  as  big  as  a  small  ham,  "if  you  behave 
yourself.  I  want  you  to  shut  your  mouth,  and  git 
on  your  mule  and  start  for  camp.  If  you  don't 
'tend  to  your  bizness,  or  give  me  any  more  o'  your 
sass,  I'll  pound  the  melt  out  o'  you.  D'  you  hear? 
Git  on  your  mule  at  onct." 

The  teamster  did  as  he  was  bid,  and  drove  on  till 
they  came  up  to  where  the  boys  were  sitting  on  a 
fence-corner  waiting  for  them. 

Si  had  a  brace  of  chickens  tied  together  by  the 
feet,  and  Shorty  a  crock  of  honey  in  the  comb,  with 
a  bag  of  saleratus  biscuits  and  one  of  cornmeal,  and 
a  number  of  strings  of  dried  apples. 

"Bin  waitin'  for  you  a  good  while,  Pap.  What 
kep'  you  so  long?  Break-down?"  said  Si. 

"No;  had  to  stop  and  argy  the  fugitive  slave  law 
with  a  Southern  gentleman,  and  then  debate  nig 
gers'  civil  rights  with  the  teamster,"  said  the  Dea 
con.  Then  he  told  them  the  story.  "Here's  the 


THE    PERPLEXED    DEACON.  257 

darky,"  he  said,  as  he  concluded.  "Seems  to  be  a 
purty  fair  sort  of  a  farm-hand,  if  he  has  sense 
enough  to  come  in  when  it  rains,  which  I  misdoubt. 
What  are  we  goin'  to  do  with  him?" 

"Do  with  him?"  said  Shorty.  "Do  everything  with 
him.  Take  him  into  camp  first.  Hire  him  out  to 
the  Quartermaster.  Let  him  wait  on  the  Captain. 
Take  him  back  home  with  you  to  help  on  the  farm 
while  Si's  away.  Jehosephat,  a  big  buck  like  that's 
a  mighty  handy  thing  to  have  about  the  house.  You 
kin  learn  him  more  tricks  in  a  week  than  he'd  learn 
with  his  owner  in  a  lifetime.  "Say,  boy,  what's  your 
name?" 

"S s-s,"  the  negro  began  to  say,  but  he  caught 

the  Deacon's  eye  upon  him,  and  responded  promptly, 
"Abr'm  Lincoln." 

"I  believe  the  nigger  kin  be  taught,"  thought  the 
Deacon.  "Probably  this's  some  more  o'  Providence's 
workin's.  Mebbe  He  brung  this  about  jest  to  give 
me  my  share  o'  the  work  o'  raisin'  the  fallen  race." 

"Boys,"  said  he,  "I'm  glad  you've  got  something 
good  to  eat  there.  Them  chickens  seem  tol'ble  young 
and  fat.  I  hope  you  came  by  'em  honestly." 

"Well,  Pap,"  chuckled  Si,  "I  don't  know  as  a  man 
who's  been  runnin'  around  for  another  man's  nig 
ger,  and  got  him,  is  jest  in  shape  to  ask  questions 
how  other  men  got  chickens  and  things;  but  I'll 
relieve  your  mind  by  sayin'  that  we  came  honestly 
by  'em." 

"Yes;  thought  it  would  be  interestin'  to  try  that 
way  once,  for  a  change,"  said  Shorty.  "Besides, 
it  wuz  too  near  camp  for  any  hornswogglin'.  These 
fellers  right  around  camp  are  gettin'  on  to  the  names 


258  SI  KLEGG. 

o'  the  regiments.  They're  learnin'  to  notice  200th 
Ind.  on  our  caps,  and'  foller  you  right  into  camp, 
and  go  up  to  the  Colonel.  We're  layin'  altogether 
too  long  in  one  place.  The  Army  o'  the  Cumberland 
oughter  move." 

"We  paid  full  value,  C.  0.  D.,"  added  Si,  "and  not 
in  Drake's  Plantation  Bitters  labels  nor  in  busted 
Kalamazoo  bank  notes,  neither.  I  think  fellers  that 
pass  patent-medicine  labels  and  business-college  ad 
vertisements  on  these  folks  for  money,  oughter  to  be 
tied  up  by  the  thumbs.  It's  mean." 

"That's  what  I  say,  too,"  added  Shorty,  with  virtu 
ous  indignation.  "  'Specially  when  you  kin  git  the 
best  kind  o'  Confederit  money  from  Cincinnati  for 
two  cents  on  the  dollar.  I  always  lay  in  enough  o' 
that  to  do  my  tradin'  with." 

"What's  that?  What's  that?"  gasped  the  Deacon. 
"Passin'  Confederate  money  that  you  buy  in  Cincin 
nati  at  two  cents  on  the  dollar?  Why,  that's  coun- 
terfeitin'." 

"That's  drawin'  it  a  little  too  fine,"  said  Shorty 
argumentatively.  "These  flabbergasted  fools  won't 
take  greenbacks.  I  offered  the  woman  to-day  some, 
and  she  said  she  wouldn't  be  found  dead  with  'em. 
She  wanted  Confedrit  money.  You  may  call  it  coun- 
terfeitin',  but  the  whole  Southern  Confederacy  is 
counterfeit,  from  its  President  down  to  the  lowest 
Corporil.  A  dollar  or  two  more  or  less  won't  make 
no  difference.  This  feller  at  Cincinnati  has  got  just 
as  much  right  to  print  notes  as  they  have  in  Rich 
mond." 

"He  prints  'em  on  better  paper,  his  pictures  are 
better,  and  he  sells  his  notes  much  cheaper,  and  I 


THE    PERPLEXED    DEACON.  259 

don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  buy  o'  him  rather  than 
o'  them.  I  believe  in  patronizin'  home  industry." 

"Si,"  said  his  father,  in  horrified  tones,  "I  hope 
you  hain't  bin  passin'  none  o'  the  Cincinnati  Con 
federate  money  on  these  people." 

"I  hope  not,  Pap.  But  then,  you  know,  I  ain't 
no  bank-note  detector.  I  can't  tell  the  Cincinnati 
kind  from  the  Richmond  kind,  and  I  never  try  very 
hard.  All  Confednt  money's  alike  to  me,  and  I  guess 
in  the  end  it'll  be  to  them.  Both  kinds  say  they'll 
be  paid  six  months  after  the  conclusion  of  peace  be 
twixt  the  Confederate  States  and  the  United  States, 
and  I  guess  one  stands  jest  as  good  show  as  the 
other.  The  woman  asked  me  $2  apiece  for  these 
chickens,  and  I  paid  her  in  the  Confedrit  money  I 
happened  to  have  in  my  pocket.  I  didn't  notice 
whether  it  wuz  printed  in  Cincinnati  or  Richmond. 

I  got  it  from  one  o'  the  boys  playin'  p .  I  mean 

he  paid  it  to  see  me."  He  gave  Shorty  a  furtive 
kick  and  whispered :  "Come  mighty  nigh  givin'  my 
self  away  that  time." 

There  was  a  long  hill  just  before  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  entrance  to  the  camp,  and  they  got  out 
and  helped  the  mules  up.  They  walked  on  ahead 
until  they  came  to  the  top.  The  Deacon  looked  at 
the  entrance,  and  said: 

"I  declare,  if  there  isn't  that  owner  o'  this  nigger 
waitin'  for  us." 

"That  so?"  said  Si,  turning  his  eyes  in  that  direc 
tion.  "And  he's  got  some  officers  with  him.  There's 
some  officers  jest  mean  enough  to  help  these  rebels 
ketch  their  niggers.  I'd  like  to  knock  their  addled 
heads  off." 


260  SI  KLEGG. 

"Jest  wait  till  we  git  discharged,  Si,  and  then  we 
kin  lick  'em  as  much  as  we  want  to,"  said  Shorty. 
"But  we've  got  to  do  somethin'  now.  They  can't  see 
us  yit.  Deacon,  jest  take  yer  nigger  and  cut  down 
around  through  the  crick  there  until  you  come  to  the 
picket-line.  Then  wait.  Me  and  Si'll  go  on  in,  and 
come  around  and  find  you." 

"All  right,"  assented  the  Deacon,  who  was  falling 
into  camp  ways  with  remarkable  facility.  "But 
you've  got  to  look  out  for  that  teamster.  He's 
meaner'n  dog-fennel.  He'll  tell  everything." 

"Good  point,"  said  Si.  "We  must  'tend  to  him. 
See  here,  Groundhog,"  he  continued,  walking  back 
to  the  teamster ;  "  you  don't  know  nothin'  about  that 
old  man  and  nigger  that  got  on  your  wagon.  They 
slipped  off  into  the  woods  when  you  wuzn't  lookin', 
while  you  wuz  busy  with  your  mules,  and  you  don't 
know  whether  they  went  to  the  right  or  to  the  left, 
up  the  road  or  down  it." 

"Do  you  s'pose  I'm  goin'  to  help  steal  a  nigger, 
and  then  lie  about  it  to  the  officers,  for  you  galoots, 
and  all  for  nothin'?"  said  the  teamster.  "You  are 
blamed  fools,  that's  all  I've  got  to  say." 

"Look  here,  Groundhog,"  said  Shorty,  coming  up 
close,  with  a  portentious  doubled  fist.  "You  know 
me,  and  you  know  Si.  You  know  that  either  of  us 
can  maul  the  head  off  you  in  a  minute,  whenever 
we've  a  mind  to,  and  we're  likely  any  time  to  have 
a  mind  to.  We're  a  durned  sight  nearer  you  all  the 
time  than  any  o'  the  officers,  and  you  can't  git  away 
from  us,  though  you  may  from  them.  They  may 
buck  and  gag  you,  as  they  ought  to,  'bout  every  day, 
but  that  won't  be  nothin'  to  the  welting  one  of  us  '11 


THE    PERPLEXED    DEACON.  261 

give  you.  Now,  you  tell  that  story,  jest  as  Si  said, 
and  stick  to  it,  or  you  won't  have  a  whole  bone  in 
your  carcass  by  the  end  o'  the  week." 

When  they  came  up  to  the  entrance  there  indeed 
stood  the  owner  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  holding  his 
horse,  and  by  him  stood  the  Lieutenant-Colonel  of 
the  200th  Ind.,  a  big,  burly  man,  who  had  been  a 
drover  and  an  influential  politician  before  he  got  his 
commission,  and  had  a  high  reputation  at  home  as 
a  rough-and-tumble  fighter.  He  had  not  added  to 
his  bellicose  fame  since  entering  the  field,  because  for 
some  mysterious  reason  he  had  been  absent  every 
time  the  regiment  went  into  a  fight,  or  was  likely 
to.  Consequently  he  was  all  the  more  blustering  and 
domineering  in  camp,  in  spite  of  the  frequent  re 
pressions  he  got  from  the  modest,  quiet  little  Colonel. 

"Old  Blowhard  Billings  is  there,"  said  Si.  "Now 
we'll  have  a  gust  o'  wind." 

"Didn't  know  he  was  in  camp,"  said  Shorty.  "I've 
a  notion  to  bust  a  cap  and  scare  him  back  to  Nash 
ville  agin.  Don't  let  him  bluff  you,  Si,  even  if  he 
is  the  Lieutenant-Colonel." 

They  rode  up  to  the  entrance  looking  as  innocent 
and  placid  as  if  bringing  in  a  load  from  the  fields 
on  the  Wabash. 

"Corporal  Klegg,"  said  the  Lieutenant-Colonel 
sternly,  "bring  out  that  nigger  from  the  wagon." 

"We  ain't  got  no  nigger  in  the  wagon,  Colonel," 
said  Si,  with  an  expression  of  surprise. 

"Come,  now,  don't  fool  with  me,  sir,  or  I'll  make 
you  very  sorry  for  it.  I'm  no  man  to  be  trifled  with, 
sir.  If  you  ain't  got  a  nigger  in  the  wagon,  what  've 
you  done  with  him." 


262  SI  KLEGG. 

"We  ain't  done  nothin'  with  him,  Colonel,"  per 
sisted  Si.  "I  hain't  had  nothin'  to  do  with  no  nig 
ger  since  we  started  out  this  mornin' ;  hain't  spoken 
to  one.  Sometimes  niggers  jump  on  our  wagons, 
ride  a  little  ways,  and  then  jump  off  agin.  I  can't 
keep  track  of  'em.  I  generally  make  'em  git  off 
when  I  notice  'em." 

"Corporal  Klegg,  you're  lyin'  to  me,"  said  the 
Lieutenant-Colonel  roughly.  "I'll  settle  with  you  di 
rectly.  Groundhog,  have  you  got  a  nigger  in  the 
wagon  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  the  teamster. 

"Didn't  you  have' one?" 

Groundhog  looked  up  and  caught  Shorty's  eye 
fixed  unflinchingly  on  him. 

"I  b'lieve  that  one  did  git  on,"  he  stammered,  "but 
he  got  off  agin  d'rectly.  I  didn't  notice  much  about 
him.  My  mules  wuz  very  bothersome  all  the  time. 
They're  the  durndest  meanest  mules  that  ever  a  man 
tried  to  drive.  That  there  off-swing  mule'd" 

"We  don't  want  to  hear  nothin'  about  your  mules. 
We'll  look  in  the  wagon  ourselves." 

The  search  developed  nothing.  The  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  came  back  to  Si,  angrier  than  ever. 

"Look  here,  Klegg,  you're  foolin'  me,  an'  I  won't 
stand  it.  I'll  have  the  truth  out  o'  you  if  I  have  to 
kill  you.  Understand?" 

There  was  a  dangerous  gleam  in  Si's  and  Shorty's 
eyes,  but  they  kept  their  lips  tightly  closed. 

"This  gentleman  here,"  continued  the  Lieutenant- 
Colonel,  "says,  and  I  believe  his  story,  against  all 
that  you  may  say,  that  the  men  with  this  wagon, 
which  he's  bin  watchin'  all  along,  took  his  nigger 


THE    PERPLEXED    DEACON.  263 

away  from  him  and  drove  him  off  with  insults  and 
curses.  They  threatened  his  life.  He  says  he  can't 
reckonize  either  of  you,  and  likely  you  have  dis 
guised  yourselves.  But  he  reckonizes  the  wagon  and 
the  teamster,  and  is  willin'  to  swear  to  'em.  I  know 
he's  tellin'  the  truth,  because  I  know  you  fellers. 
You're  impudent  and  sassy.  You've  bin  among  them 
that's  hollered  at  me.  You've  bin  stealin'  other 
things  besides  niggers  to-day,  and  have  'em  in  your 
possession.  You're  loaded  down  with  things  you've 
stolen  from  houses.  I  won't  command  a  regiment 
of  nigger-thieves.  I  won't  have  nigger-thieves  in  my 
regiment.  If  I've  got  any  in  my  regiment  I'll  break 
'em  of  it,  or  I'll  break  their  infernal  necks.  I  be 
lieve  you  fellers  got  away  with  that  nigger,  and  I'll 
tie  you  up  by  the  thumbs  till  I  get  the  truth  out 
o'  you.  Sergeant  o'  the  guard,  take  charge  o'  these 
men,  and  bring  'em  along.  Take  that  stuff  that 
they've  stolen  away  from  them  and  send  it  to  my 
tent." 

Si  and  Shorty  got  very  white  about  the  mouth,  but 
Si  merely  said,  as  they  handed  their  guns  to  the 
guard : 

"Colonel,  you  may  tie  us  up  till  doomsday,  but 
you'll  git  no  help  out  of  us  to  ketch  runaway  nig 
gers  and  put  'em  back  in  slavery." 

"Shut  up,  you  scalawag,"  roared  the  Lieutenant- 
Colonel.  "If  I  hear  another  word  out  o'  you  I'll 
buck-and-gag  you." 

They  marched  to  Regimental  Headquarters  and 
halted,  and  the  Lieutenant-Colonel  renewed  his 
browbeating,  Si  and  Shorty  continued  obstinate,  and 
the  Lieutenant-Colonel,  getting  angrier  every  minute, 


264 


SI  KLEGG. 


ordered  them  tied  up  by  the  thumbs.  While  the 
Sergeant  of  the  Guard,  who  was  a  friend  of  the 
boys,  and  had  little  heart  for  the  work,  was  dallying 
with  his  preparations,  the  Colonel  himself  appeared 
on  the  scene. 


"I'LL  INVITE  YOUR  ATTENTION  TO  THE  EMANCIPATION 
PROCLAMATION." 


"Ah,  Colonel,  you've  got  back,  have  you?"  said 
the  Lieutenant-Colonel,  little  pleased  at  the  inter 
ruption.  "I've  just  caught  two  of  the  men  in  a  little 
job  o'  nigger-stealin',  and  I  was  about  to  learn  them 


THE    PERPLEXED    DEACON.  265 

a  lesson  which  will  break  them  of  the  habit.  With 
your  consent  I'll  go  on  with  the  work." 

"Nigger-stealing?"  said  the  Colonel  quietly.  "You 
mean  helping  a  slave  to  get  away?  Did  you  learn 
whether  the  owner  was  a  loyal  man?" 

"I  don't  know  as  that  makes  any  difference,"  re 
plied 'the  Lieutenant-Colonel  surlily.  "As  a  matter 
of  fact,  I  believe  he  said  he  had  two  sons  in  the 
rebel  army." 

"Well,  Colonel,"  said  the  other,  "I'll  invite  your 
attention  to  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  of 
President  Lincoln,  and  the  orders  from  the  War  De 
partment,  which  prohibit  the  return  of  slaves  to  dis 
loyal  owners,  and  make  it  the  duty  of  officers  and 
men  to  assist  in  their  escape.  You  had  better  dis 
miss  the  men  to  their  quarters." 

"If  that's  the  case if  I  don't  resign.  I'm  no 

Abolitionist.  I  didn't  come  into  the  army  to  free 
the  niggers." 

"I  shall  take  pleasure  in  forwarding  your  reigna- 
tion  with  a  recommendation  of  its  acceptance  for 
the  good  of  the  service,"  said  the  Colonel  calmly. 
"Men,  go  to  your  quarters." 


"Altogether,  Pap,  I  consider  this  a  mighty  good 
day's  work,"  remarked  Si  that  evening  after  supper, 
as  they  sat  around  the  fire  smoking,  with  Abraham 
Lincoln  snoring  vigorously  on  the  floor,  in  his  first 
night's  sleep  as  a  free  man. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


TRYING  TO  EDUCATE  ABRAHAM   LINCOLN — TOO   HIGH- 
PRESSURE   SCHOOLING — THE   BOYS   ON   PICKET. 

ALL  THREE  of  the  men  at  once  became  guard 
ians  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  in  their  sev 
eral  ways  heartily  interested  in  his  welfare. 

The  Deacon  was  fired  by  the  missionary  spirit  of 
his  kind  and  class. 

"No  use  talkin'  no  more  about  the  heathen  'On 
Greenland's  icy  mountains,'  or  any  place  else," 
he  communed  with  himself  that  evening,  as  he  sat 
and  smoked,  and  occasionally  glanced  at  the  ebon 
face  of  the  sleeper  in  the  corner.  "Providence  has 
cut  out  a  job  for  me,  and  sent  it  home.  Rather,  He 
sent  me  where  I  couldn't  help  stumblin'  upon  it,  and 
reckonizin'  it.  The  responsibility  to  Him  is  clear. 
I've  got  heathen  enough  to  last  me  for  a  'coon's  age, 
to  lift  that  poor,  ignorant  soul  up,  and  bring  it  to 
a  knowledge  of  Christian  ways.  He's  not  nice  nor 
purty;  never  heard  of  a  pagan  that  wuz.  Wouldn't 
be  pagans  if  they  wuz.  But  he's  a  man  and  a 
brother,  and  the  Bible  says  that  I'm  my  brother's 
keeper.  I'll  keep  him  agin  fifty-'leven  o'  that  old 
snortin'  rebel  and  Copperhead  Blowhard  Billings. 
I  wuzzent  brung  up  in  the  woods  to  be  scared  by 
the  hootin'  of  an  owl." 

"We  might  take  him  along  with  us,  Si,"  said 
Shorty,  in  a  low  tone,  with  a  nod  toward  Abraham 


TRYING    TO    EDUCATE    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.     267 

Lincoln.  "We  could  make  a  bully  cook  out  of  him. 
We  could  have  no  end  of  fun  with  him.  We  could 
learn  him  lots  o'  tricks.  He's  as  strong  as  an 
ox,  and  after  I'd  give  him  a  few  lessons  in  puttin' 
up  his  hands,  he'd  knock  out  that  sassy  nigger  o' 
the  Colonel's." 

"I  think  so,  too,"  acquiesced  Si,  with  an  estimating 
glance  at  the  sleeper. 

Abraham  Lincoln's  education  began  bright  and 
early  the  next  morning,  when  Shorty  kicked  and 
shook  him  into  wakefulness  at  the  sound  of  the 
reveille. 

"Git  up ;  git  up,"  said  Shorty.  "Wash  your  hands 
and  face,  comb  your  hair,  cut  some  wood  and  put  it 
on  the  fire,  and  bring  a  kettle  o'  water  from  the 
spring." 

"Wash  my  hands  and  face,"  said  the  negro,  in  a 
dazed  way.  "Wha'  fo'?  Don't  got  nufin  on  dem. 
Comb  my  ha'r?  Nebber  did  dat  in  my  life." 

"Well,  you've  got  to  do  it  now  every  mornin',  and 
be  spry  about  it,  too.  Come,  don't  move  around  as 
if  sawed  out  o'  basswood.  This  ain't  nigger-quar 
ters.  Git  some  springs  in  your  feet." 

And  he  emphasized  his  injunctions  with  a  vigorous 
push. 

The  negro's  face  looked  as  if  he  began  to  have 
doubts  as  to  whether  freedom  was  all  that  had  been 
represented  to  him.  To  have  to  get  up  early  every 
morning,  and  wash  his  face  and  hands  and  comb  his 
hair,  seemed  at  the  moment  to  be  a  high  price  to  pay 
for  liberty. 

"Does  I  hab  tuh  do  dat  ebbery  mornin',  Boss?"  he 
said,  turning  with  a  look  of  plaintive  inquiry  to 
the  Deacon. 


268  SI  KLEGG. 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  the  Deacon,  who  had  just 
finished  his  own  ablutions,'  and  was  combing  his 
hair.  "Every  man  must  do  that  to  be  decent." 

Abraham  Lincoln  gave  a  deep  sigh. 

"Washes  himself  as  if  he's  afraid  the  water'd 
scald  him,"  said  the  Deacon,  watching  the  negro's 
awkward  efforts.  "He'll  have  to  take  more  kindly 
to  water,  if  he  comes  into  a  Baptist  total  immersion 
family.  There's  no  salvation  except  by  water,  and 
plenty  of  it,  too.  Now,"  he  continued,  as  the  black 
man  had  finished,  "pick  up  that  ax  and  cut  some 
wood  to  get  breakfast  with." 

Abraham  Lincoln  took  the  ax,  and  began  belabor 
ing  the  wood,  while  the  Deacon  studied  him  with  a 
critical  eye.  There  was  little  that  the  Deacon  prided 
himself  on  more  than  his  skill  as  a  wood  chopper. 
People  who  think  the  ax  is  a  simple,  skill-less  tool,  de 
pendent  for  its  efficiency  solely  upon  the  strength  and 
industry  with  which  it  is  wielded,  make  a  great  mis 
take.  There  is  as  much  difference  in  the  way  men 
handle  axes,  and  in  the  result  they  produce,  as  there 
is  in  their  playing  the  violin.  Anybody  can  chop,  it 
is  true,  as  anybody  can  daub  with  a  paint  brush, 
but  a  real  axman  of  the  breed  of  the  Deacon,  who 
had  gone  into  the  wilderness  with  scarcely  any  other 
tool  than  an  ax,  can  produce  results  with  it  of  which 
the  clumsy  hacker  can  scarcely  imagine.  The  Dea 
con  watched  the  negro's  work  with  disgust  and  impa 
tience. 

"Hadn't  oughter  named  sich  a  clumsy  pounder  as 
that  'Abraham  Lincoln,'  "  he  mused.  "Old  Abe  could 
handle  an  ax  with  the  best  of  'em.  This  feller 
handles  it  as  if  it  was  a  handspike.  If  Si  couldn't  've 


TRYING    TO    EDUCATE    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.     269 

used  an  ax  better'n  that  when  he  was  10  years  old, 
I'd  'a'  felt  mortally  ashamed  o'  him.  Gracious,  what 
a  job  I  have  before  me  o'  makin'  a  first-class  man 
out  o'  him." 


THE  DEACON  GIVES  ABE  A  LESSON  IN  WOOD  CHOPPING. 


He  took  the  ax  from  the  negro's  hand,  and  pa 
tiently  showed  him  how  to  hold  and  strike  with  it. 
The  man  apparently  tried  his  best  to  learn,  but  it 


270  SI   KLEGG. 

was  a  perspiring  effort  for  him  and  the  Deacon.  The 
negro  presently  dropped  his  ax,  sat  down  on  the  log, 
and  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  shirtsleeve. 

"  Tore  God,  Boss,  dat's  de  hardest  way  ob  cuttin' 
wood  dat  I  ebber  seed.  Hit'll  kill  me  done  daid  to 
chop  wood  dat  a-way." 

"Pshaw!"  said  the  impatient  Deacon.  "You're 
simply  stupid;  that's  all.  That's  the  only  way  to 
handle  an  ax.  You  kin  cut  with  half  the  work  that 
way." 

He  was  discovering  what  so  many  of  us  have  found 
out,  that  among  the  hardest  things  in  life  is  that  of 
getting  people  to  give  up  clumsy  ways  for  those  that 
are  better. 

In  the  meantime  the  boys  had  gotten  breakfast. 
Then  Shorty,  who  was  dying  to  train  their  new 
acquisition  for  a  winning  fight  with  the  Colonel's 
negro,  took  him  behind  the  house  for  a  little  pri 
vate  instruction  in  boxing.  The  field-hand  had  never 
even  heard  of  such  a  thing  before,  but  Shorty  was 
too  much  in  earnest  to  care  for  a  little  thing  like  that. 
He  went  at  his  task  with  a  will,  making  the  negro 
double  his  fists  just  so,  strike  in  a  particular  way, 
make  a  certain  "guard,"  and  hit  out  scientifically. 
Shorty  was  so  enthusiastic  that  he  did  not  stop  to 
think  that  it  was  severe  labor  for  the  poor  negro,  and 
when  he  had  to  stop  his  lesson  at  the  end  of  half  an 
hour  to  go  on  battalion  drill  he  left  his  pupil  in  a 
state  of  collapse. 

Ignorant  of  the  new  ordeal  through  which  his 
charge  had  been  going,  the  Deacon  went  out  in 
search  of  him.  He  had  just  finished  reading  the  news 
in  the  Cincinnati  Commercial,  ending  with  an  edi- 


TRYING    TO    EDUCATE    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.     271 

torial  on  "Our  Duty  Toward  the  Freedmen,"  which 
impelled  him  to  think  that  he  could  not  begin  Abra 
ham  Lincoln's  education  too  soon. 

"Now,  Abe,"  said  he  briskly,  "you've  had  a  good 
rest,  and  it's  time  that  you  should  be  doin'  some 
thing.  You  ought  to  learn  to  read  as  soon  as  pos 
sible,  and  you  might  as  well  begin  to  learn  your 
letters  at  once.  I'll  give  you  your  first  lesson.  Here 
are  some  nice  large  letters  in  this  newspaper  head, 
that  you  kin  learn  very  easily.  Now,  the  first  one 
is  T.  You  see  it  is  a  cross." 

"Afo'  de  Lawd,  Boss,"  wailed  the  desperate  negro, 
"I  jest  can't  1'arn  no  mo',  now,  nohow.  'Deed  I 
can't.  Hit's  bin  nuffin  but  1'arn,  1'arn,  ebbery  minnit 
sense  I  got  up  dis  mawnin',  an'  my  haid's  jest  bustin', 
so  hit  is.  I  a'most  wisht  I  wuz  back  wid  my  ole 
mas'r,  who  didn't  want  to  1'arn  me  nuffin." 

The  astonished  Deacon  paused  and  reflected. 

"Mebbe  we've  bin  tryin'  to  force  this  plant  too 
fast.  There's  danger  about  puttin'  new  wine  into 
old  bottles.  It's  not  the  right  way  to  train  anything. 
The  way  to  break  a  colt  is  to  hang  the  bridle  on  the 
fence  where  he  kin  see  and  smell  it  for  a  day  or  two. 
I'll  go  a  little  slow  with  him  at  first.  Would  you  like 
something  more  to  eat,  Abe?" 

"Yes,  Boss.  'Deed  I  would,"  answered  the  negro 
with  cheerful  promptness,  forgetting  all  about  the 
pangs  of  the  "new  birth  of  freedom." 

THE    END    OF    BOOK    NO.    2. 


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